11-15-2017, 04:53 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
It is true - you never know what is lying just below the surface.
The sea is not a mystery to him - the world above him is.
He has no home - he never has. He perhaps has had family, and maybe he would have gotten to know them and found a purpose on those pristine beaches in Ischia so many years ago...but life never turns out the way you expect, does it? He travels alone, hunts alone. He’s a predator, though not with claws or fangs nor even brute strength. The ocean is his guide, his love, his only. It is all he needs - the darkest and deepest depths of abysmal chasms, so dim and lifeless that he does not even encounter marine life. It is only him in his soundless, floating home.
Oh, but he craves. He craves the world above him, to walk with confidence upon its shores, to be feared, to be loved out of fear. He craves to add to his collection, to create a masterpiece of bloated bodies and salt-water stretched corpses. He is a menace, the gatekeeper to a watery grave, Poseiden made flesh. He’d take their breath, he’d watch as the very life leaves their lungs, count the seconds until water fills their throats.
Right now, he craves that satisfaction yet again.
He propels himself to meet the unsuspecting stallion, manifesting himself as a strong and sudden current - liquified completely, no equine shape to the push or pull. Yes, it is only the undertow pulling you out to sea, it is the rip-tide that brings you beneath the waves…. Maugrim pulls him out farther and farther into the sea, where the grey waters splice angrily against craggy rocks and corals, the anticipation and excitement causing his body to waver in and out of its liquified state, a glimmer of a face here, a malicious grin beneath the frothing spray.
Maugrim suddenly becomes visible, solidifying as a giant wave pushes itself onto a protruding rock. Expertly he shifts, no longer fully water but fully stallion, painted the dark evergreen of algae and the bright iridescence of pearl. Dark tendrils of forelock and mane plaster against the curve of his neck and the sharp angles of his face, lifeless eyes staring expectantly at the sordid waters as he pulls his victim up, allowing him to breathe. His laugh echoes across the sound of crashing waves, gurgling and bubbling in his throat. With a swift dip of his head he bends the water to his will, forcing the colt into the waters and in between the sharp splicing rock and corals.
The sea is not a mystery to him - the world above him is.
He has no home - he never has. He perhaps has had family, and maybe he would have gotten to know them and found a purpose on those pristine beaches in Ischia so many years ago...but life never turns out the way you expect, does it? He travels alone, hunts alone. He’s a predator, though not with claws or fangs nor even brute strength. The ocean is his guide, his love, his only. It is all he needs - the darkest and deepest depths of abysmal chasms, so dim and lifeless that he does not even encounter marine life. It is only him in his soundless, floating home.
Oh, but he craves. He craves the world above him, to walk with confidence upon its shores, to be feared, to be loved out of fear. He craves to add to his collection, to create a masterpiece of bloated bodies and salt-water stretched corpses. He is a menace, the gatekeeper to a watery grave, Poseiden made flesh. He’d take their breath, he’d watch as the very life leaves their lungs, count the seconds until water fills their throats.
Right now, he craves that satisfaction yet again.
He propels himself to meet the unsuspecting stallion, manifesting himself as a strong and sudden current - liquified completely, no equine shape to the push or pull. Yes, it is only the undertow pulling you out to sea, it is the rip-tide that brings you beneath the waves…. Maugrim pulls him out farther and farther into the sea, where the grey waters splice angrily against craggy rocks and corals, the anticipation and excitement causing his body to waver in and out of its liquified state, a glimmer of a face here, a malicious grin beneath the frothing spray.
Maugrim suddenly becomes visible, solidifying as a giant wave pushes itself onto a protruding rock. Expertly he shifts, no longer fully water but fully stallion, painted the dark evergreen of algae and the bright iridescence of pearl. Dark tendrils of forelock and mane plaster against the curve of his neck and the sharp angles of his face, lifeless eyes staring expectantly at the sordid waters as he pulls his victim up, allowing him to breathe. His laugh echoes across the sound of crashing waves, gurgling and bubbling in his throat. With a swift dip of his head he bends the water to his will, forcing the colt into the waters and in between the sharp splicing rock and corals.
m a u g r i m.
@[Ardashir]