05-29-2018, 11:24 AM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
It is the darkness of night that draws him out from his howling tomb, crawling into the fiery dying light of day while the trees burn into the atmosphere of vibrant red and gold. The forest of Sylva brims with thrumming darkness and blood, bringing forth an entirely different beast that once only reigned where water had been readily available. Now the stallion truly begins to show his true intentions and desires, while the reckoning of Sylva preens and ripens his bloodlust and darkened soul, flourishing beside his counterparts and quickly becoming a powerful presence within the clown’s forest.
His breath is ragged and wheezing as he lingers in the shadows, his dark and ravenous gaze unwavering as he watches her. He has heard of the prized gift that Loess has bestowed onto Sylva as a sign of good faith, and Maugrim found it such a pity that he had not yet seen an ounce of reward from her. She sleeps fitfully, it appears. Her cream-colored wings flutter gently against her sides, and the stallion snorts softly, curiously (though most likely alerting her to his presence) as he wonders if he’s ever encountered one with such beautiful appendages.
Evergreen and pearl painted body moves from beneath the shadow, stepping onto the damp pine needles that riddle the earthy floor. Maugrim gives her a wide berth (he is slow in his stalking, long and drawn out is best), circling her in a fashion that could appear as if he is inspecting her, his black eyes roving her cream and cobalt coat, brows rising with thoughtfulness.
“How is it you’re able to sleep?”
The second you close your eyes, you know someone will be watching.
His voice is grave and dim from misuse, rough against his vocal cords. He’s standing directly before her now, his head turned slightly so that his bottomless eyes peer carefully into the depths of hers.
His breath is ragged and wheezing as he lingers in the shadows, his dark and ravenous gaze unwavering as he watches her. He has heard of the prized gift that Loess has bestowed onto Sylva as a sign of good faith, and Maugrim found it such a pity that he had not yet seen an ounce of reward from her. She sleeps fitfully, it appears. Her cream-colored wings flutter gently against her sides, and the stallion snorts softly, curiously (though most likely alerting her to his presence) as he wonders if he’s ever encountered one with such beautiful appendages.
Evergreen and pearl painted body moves from beneath the shadow, stepping onto the damp pine needles that riddle the earthy floor. Maugrim gives her a wide berth (he is slow in his stalking, long and drawn out is best), circling her in a fashion that could appear as if he is inspecting her, his black eyes roving her cream and cobalt coat, brows rising with thoughtfulness.
“How is it you’re able to sleep?”
The second you close your eyes, you know someone will be watching.
His voice is grave and dim from misuse, rough against his vocal cords. He’s standing directly before her now, his head turned slightly so that his bottomless eyes peer carefully into the depths of hers.
m a u g r i m.
@[Lepis]