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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    survival was my only hope, success my only revenge [Maugrim]
    #8
    god make me pay
    like the devil i am
    His threats and physical abuse did its job - it did not break her (no, he can see in her eyes that though they are darkened with defeat, there is something that stirs that still keeps her upright), but the flippant attitude that had been cast at him a moment before now vanishes. It quells the hunger, brings his blood down from the height of a boil, and inwardly, he is pleased with result. He doesn’t smile; nothing on his face shows his enjoyment of her predicament, besides the way his dark eyes bore into her own, exhilaratingly watching the darkening of her irises. It is delectable.

    “Good.”

    With a flick of his tail he turns, walking into the waters that lap at her island’s shore to melt into the ocean and disappear within its depths. Who knew when she would see her captor again?

    ***


    It had been two days, maybe three. Either way, it hadn’t been long (not to him, anyway). The tide is relatively calm as the sunrise greets the tiny island, and with the sun he emerges from the water’s edge. He stands, dripping onto the sand and carefully looking around, noticing the dried bodies of dead fish and other sea animals, the stench of decay and salt of the corals. He finds her in nearly the same spot he had left her, with dried blood on her wounds and a weak, frail look on her entire body.

    “Vessel,” he murmurs, her name but a whisper in his throat. He walks to her, ears flattened to his skull, not knowing how the woman would react to his visit. “Care for a field trip?” he asks her casually, reaching forward to touch his pale lips to the wound on her neck as if enchanted by his own creation. It is time to escort her to the mainland, for a drink (a sip or two) and some sustenance. He couldn’t have his little experiment drying away into nothingness like the fish that rot at her hooves.  “I’ll get you there safely,” he promises, “because I’d hate to kill you before we even reach freshwater.” A thinly veiled threat, and he snorts sharply with finality.
    m a u g r i m.


    ooc: i hope you don't mind me skipping ahead a few days, so that he can bring her inland to eat/drink? let me know and i'll change it <3
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    RE: survival was my only hope, success my only revenge [Maugrim] - by Maugrim - 01-23-2018, 07:31 PM



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