05-08-2018, 05:20 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
He fights, but it is useless. Whether the ebony stallion fought or if had sat there quietly like a lamb to the slaughter, the water would still have him - Maugrim would still claim him. But still he tries, oh he tries, and Maugrim almost feels sorry for him; sorry that he is so weak, sorry that he is so helpless in the presence of the Rivergod. Such is the circle of life, however, and pearlescent nostrils snort emotionlessly as the sickening sound of water swallowing a fully grown equine echoes in the silent woods.
It is now that the beast emerges and truly comes alive. The once festering beneath his irises now boldly burns as he steps out from beneath the shadow of the cavern, carefully and slowly stepping towards the now-churning waters where just beneath the surface, struggle ensues. It wouldn’t be long now - especially with such thrashing - that the stallion would run out of oxygen, where the cells in his muscles would cease to breathe life into his muscles, and he would succumb to the dark abyss that has been created for him. The lake is deep - far deeper than one would care to explore - but Maugrim does not have to use the depths to create his trauma. The stallion floats just beneath safety; the golden light of a dying sun can be seen reflecting off the crinkling and black waters, and though a strong arm of water forcefully holds him in that place, perhaps Jesper can see life staring back at him - so close, yet just out of reach.
Maugrim finds himself knee-deep in the water now. The lake croons and kisses at his two-toned legs, crawling towards its master with soft whispers of surrender. He stares intently into the blackness, watching the shape of his victim writhe terribly, his face expressionless. Just a few seconds more…
(Tick, tock. Tick, tock.)
(Now.)
With a thrust of his chin upwards, the stilling waters now break with the stallion’s soaking body, bringing him to the surface only seconds before his mouth would have given in to the pressure of the deep. Maugrim keeps him in his grasp expertly, allowing Jesper to breathe only because he has deemed it so.
“Your breath will last longer,” the finisher tells him thoughtfully, stepping further into the cold water as it is carved away from his chest with each step, “if you weren’t so afraid.” The water - a living, breathing thing now that Maugrim controls it - pulls him back under again. Thrashing ensues, and the stallion’s dark stare hungrily fixates on it.
It is now that the beast emerges and truly comes alive. The once festering beneath his irises now boldly burns as he steps out from beneath the shadow of the cavern, carefully and slowly stepping towards the now-churning waters where just beneath the surface, struggle ensues. It wouldn’t be long now - especially with such thrashing - that the stallion would run out of oxygen, where the cells in his muscles would cease to breathe life into his muscles, and he would succumb to the dark abyss that has been created for him. The lake is deep - far deeper than one would care to explore - but Maugrim does not have to use the depths to create his trauma. The stallion floats just beneath safety; the golden light of a dying sun can be seen reflecting off the crinkling and black waters, and though a strong arm of water forcefully holds him in that place, perhaps Jesper can see life staring back at him - so close, yet just out of reach.
Maugrim finds himself knee-deep in the water now. The lake croons and kisses at his two-toned legs, crawling towards its master with soft whispers of surrender. He stares intently into the blackness, watching the shape of his victim writhe terribly, his face expressionless. Just a few seconds more…
(Tick, tock. Tick, tock.)
(Now.)
With a thrust of his chin upwards, the stilling waters now break with the stallion’s soaking body, bringing him to the surface only seconds before his mouth would have given in to the pressure of the deep. Maugrim keeps him in his grasp expertly, allowing Jesper to breathe only because he has deemed it so.
“Your breath will last longer,” the finisher tells him thoughtfully, stepping further into the cold water as it is carved away from his chest with each step, “if you weren’t so afraid.” The water - a living, breathing thing now that Maugrim controls it - pulls him back under again. Thrashing ensues, and the stallion’s dark stare hungrily fixates on it.
m a u g r i m.
@[Jesper]