04-26-2018, 03:23 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
There is no tactfulness laced beneath Maugrim’s words. He has shown just about how much politeness that can be seen to an ‘ally’ (any longer, and his patience would clearly run thin), and part of him knows he would jump at the opportunity to rip into another’s flesh by any means possible, even if it was because a hound asked him to do it, and even if there is no water nearby for him to use. He waits with bated breath, dark eyes keenly fixed on the hellish wolf before him - the smoldering embers of its irises burning into the deep and endless blackness that is his own.
The embodiment of darkness declines his offer with a growl, with which Maugrim responds with a sharp snort, his eyes sweeping to Arthas, nose wrinkling as a scowl finds the pale of his lips. A hooded brow positions itself over his dark expression, ears falling backwards slightly. “Another day, then,” he adds nonchalantly, wondering why it is that allies were so important, or even friends, when water and his own cunning is the only ally he will ever need.
The hound brings his attention back, and Maugrim’s expression does not change as he meets the creature’s eyes once again - familiar already is the look of the hellhound’s gaze, causing the scowl to upturn slightly into an unearthly and terrible smile. The smile itself is almost unfitting on the normalcy of his hard and stoic features, which makes it all the more unsettling. The catacombs that is the ghostly redwoods of Sylva would harbor the creature well, and Maugrim wonders what other powers it possesses besides the brute strength of its canine-like attributes.
“The Forest calls us home,” he murmurs almost in a hum, a chuckle vibrating deep in his chest. He moves past the hound, in the direction of Sylva.
The embodiment of darkness declines his offer with a growl, with which Maugrim responds with a sharp snort, his eyes sweeping to Arthas, nose wrinkling as a scowl finds the pale of his lips. A hooded brow positions itself over his dark expression, ears falling backwards slightly. “Another day, then,” he adds nonchalantly, wondering why it is that allies were so important, or even friends, when water and his own cunning is the only ally he will ever need.
The hound brings his attention back, and Maugrim’s expression does not change as he meets the creature’s eyes once again - familiar already is the look of the hellhound’s gaze, causing the scowl to upturn slightly into an unearthly and terrible smile. The smile itself is almost unfitting on the normalcy of his hard and stoic features, which makes it all the more unsettling. The catacombs that is the ghostly redwoods of Sylva would harbor the creature well, and Maugrim wonders what other powers it possesses besides the brute strength of its canine-like attributes.
“The Forest calls us home,” he murmurs almost in a hum, a chuckle vibrating deep in his chest. He moves past the hound, in the direction of Sylva.
m a u g r i m.
@[Sinner] continue in sylva? <3