11-13-2019, 12:31 PM
In the end, he always knew his father was weak.
Draco is under no illusions, at least that is what he thinks. He sees the cruelty for what it is, and he embraces it. Like his father, his view of the world is gray and hopeless, but that does not mean he does not live deliciously.
Most days, the demon boy treads in shadow, glowing eyes fearsome and curious and ever-seeking the most dangerous prey. Father would be proud of me, he thinks, even if Litotes would be proud in a frightened way. He likes that—that power that sits in being better than his sire. Because he is better than him, so much better and stronger and demanding. That gray way he sees the world is what keeps him alive and ambitious.
There’s already so much ugly in the world . . . why not embrace it?
The curve of his horns sparkles red and dangerous when he smiles, one sure hoof stepping into the dry red of Pangea’s dust.
Father’s scent is long gone, he thinks, lifting his regal nose to the air. Draco is not stupid, and he does not allow his indifference to keep him ignorant, so he knows of Pangea’s new shadow leader. He wonders what this one does with her power.
Perhaps she is not so hopeless as the leaders of before, though he does find their peace and ordinary natures so utterly bland.
Hmmmm, he mumbles, white glimmers lighting up the blackness of his face.
I’m bored.
i had an itch to write draco so i did
Draco is under no illusions, at least that is what he thinks. He sees the cruelty for what it is, and he embraces it. Like his father, his view of the world is gray and hopeless, but that does not mean he does not live deliciously.
Most days, the demon boy treads in shadow, glowing eyes fearsome and curious and ever-seeking the most dangerous prey. Father would be proud of me, he thinks, even if Litotes would be proud in a frightened way. He likes that—that power that sits in being better than his sire. Because he is better than him, so much better and stronger and demanding. That gray way he sees the world is what keeps him alive and ambitious.
There’s already so much ugly in the world . . . why not embrace it?
The curve of his horns sparkles red and dangerous when he smiles, one sure hoof stepping into the dry red of Pangea’s dust.
Father’s scent is long gone, he thinks, lifting his regal nose to the air. Draco is not stupid, and he does not allow his indifference to keep him ignorant, so he knows of Pangea’s new shadow leader. He wonders what this one does with her power.
Perhaps she is not so hopeless as the leaders of before, though he does find their peace and ordinary natures so utterly bland.
Hmmmm, he mumbles, white glimmers lighting up the blackness of his face.
I’m bored.
i had an itch to write draco so i did