05-02-2018, 04:32 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
It is simply too easy. It always has been though - to take, to control, to overpower. It’s second-nature to the Riverlord.
He laughs at her command, as if mere words would cease his intentions. He is still nothingness - merely the dark blue of the sea crinkling over the shape of horse, and so his laughter is warped and terrible. He can feel the quickening of her pulse as the water (an extension of himself) pours over her, running icy fingers along her supple skin where her veins pump with adrenaline. A single thread of seawater spirals upwards before her, a careful and skillful twirl, and cups her face almost gently as he glides closer - an ocean spectre, staring intently into her wide and terrified eyes.
The urge is almost too much. He’s already imagining her beneath the water (beneath him), struggling beneath his powerful grip, lungs screaming for air while muscles spasm in an attempt to save herself. His face becomes still and hungry, and all is motionless save for the natural current of the ocean itself. There is no laughter now in the demon’s eyes - only hunger and the need to satiate, especially since he had not killed the Forest King.
(Now. Kill.)
The water sings to him its siren’s song, begging him to use it to fill his desire and his needs. His lips ripple angrily, though it is barely seen in the translucent form he is in now. He must bring her back, to the stagnant lake and his dark cave, and keep her until she is no longer needed. Then, she will be his.
The riptide begins to pull at her angrily - no longer was he a devoted lover as the water wraps around her, but now the pull is rage-filled and purposeful. She has no choice as the water sweeps her off of her hooves, lowering her into the current with an ugly sound as it closes over her head. He would bring her to Sylva alive - all oceans lead to freshwater - but he could not be responsible for what she would endure along the way. Coral that protrude just outside of the calm oceans of Tephra await her, the rocks of the briny river, as well as Maugrim himself. She would survive in one piece, but just enough so that Modicum would deem his task successful.
The creature says nothing as it melts into the water below it, carrying and forcing the mare out into open sea. He made sure that he took no care of noticing any corals or sharp rocks along the way, not caring if the force would break bones. He would then make her swim, of course, and when exhaustion would set in he would allow her fall beneath the surface, watch as she creeps incredibly close to the edge, and then bring her back to gasp for air - just to repeat the process all over again. The riverlands were the most dark - he would stand over her in shallow water, fully solid now so she could lay eyes on the beast that is now her keeper, and keep her just below the water’s surface. Near enough that just a stretch forward she would be able to breathe, but forced to stay beneath salvation just because he willed it. She would float in and out of consciousness, but he would always bring her back.
Modicum wanted Krone for his own, but Maugrim would make it clear that it is he who owns her. Her captor, her rescuer, her salvation.
He did not smile, he did not laugh as he tortured her. His face is void of all emotion, save for the concentration and the rage that burns behind the darkness of his eyes.
He laughs at her command, as if mere words would cease his intentions. He is still nothingness - merely the dark blue of the sea crinkling over the shape of horse, and so his laughter is warped and terrible. He can feel the quickening of her pulse as the water (an extension of himself) pours over her, running icy fingers along her supple skin where her veins pump with adrenaline. A single thread of seawater spirals upwards before her, a careful and skillful twirl, and cups her face almost gently as he glides closer - an ocean spectre, staring intently into her wide and terrified eyes.
The urge is almost too much. He’s already imagining her beneath the water (beneath him), struggling beneath his powerful grip, lungs screaming for air while muscles spasm in an attempt to save herself. His face becomes still and hungry, and all is motionless save for the natural current of the ocean itself. There is no laughter now in the demon’s eyes - only hunger and the need to satiate, especially since he had not killed the Forest King.
(Now. Kill.)
The water sings to him its siren’s song, begging him to use it to fill his desire and his needs. His lips ripple angrily, though it is barely seen in the translucent form he is in now. He must bring her back, to the stagnant lake and his dark cave, and keep her until she is no longer needed. Then, she will be his.
The riptide begins to pull at her angrily - no longer was he a devoted lover as the water wraps around her, but now the pull is rage-filled and purposeful. She has no choice as the water sweeps her off of her hooves, lowering her into the current with an ugly sound as it closes over her head. He would bring her to Sylva alive - all oceans lead to freshwater - but he could not be responsible for what she would endure along the way. Coral that protrude just outside of the calm oceans of Tephra await her, the rocks of the briny river, as well as Maugrim himself. She would survive in one piece, but just enough so that Modicum would deem his task successful.
The creature says nothing as it melts into the water below it, carrying and forcing the mare out into open sea. He made sure that he took no care of noticing any corals or sharp rocks along the way, not caring if the force would break bones. He would then make her swim, of course, and when exhaustion would set in he would allow her fall beneath the surface, watch as she creeps incredibly close to the edge, and then bring her back to gasp for air - just to repeat the process all over again. The riverlands were the most dark - he would stand over her in shallow water, fully solid now so she could lay eyes on the beast that is now her keeper, and keep her just below the water’s surface. Near enough that just a stretch forward she would be able to breathe, but forced to stay beneath salvation just because he willed it. She would float in and out of consciousness, but he would always bring her back.
Modicum wanted Krone for his own, but Maugrim would make it clear that it is he who owns her. Her captor, her rescuer, her salvation.
He did not smile, he did not laugh as he tortured her. His face is void of all emotion, save for the concentration and the rage that burns behind the darkness of his eyes.
m a u g r i m.
@[Krone]
Wrapping this up so that Krone can post in Sylva now <3
I'm sure she had fun getting there
