03-01-2020, 08:42 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Bilbo+Swash+Caps|Cambay&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style>#Waverly{width:700px;}#picWaverly{position:relative;z-index:0;width:700px;height:700px;border-radius:350px 350px 350px 350px;overflow:hidden;border:3px #d3bb05 groove;box-shadow:0px 0px 10px #def3f4;}#wrapperWaverly{position:relative;z-index:1;width:580px;margin-top:25px;background:#28595e;padding-top:60px;padding-bottom:50px;padding-left:60px;padding-right:60px;border-radius: 350px 350px 350px 350px;border:3px groove #d3bb05;box-shadow:0px 0px 10px #def3f4;}#textWaverly{color:#def3f4;font-family: 'Cambay', sans-serif;font-size:14px;margin-bottom:0px;margin-top:70px;}#nameWaverly{font-family: 'Bilbo Swash Caps', cursive;color:#739797;font-size:90px;margin-top:30px;margin-bottom:0px;}#quoteWaverly{font-family: 'Bilbo Swash Caps', cursive;color:#739797;font-size:22px;line-height:14px;margin-top:20px;margin-bottom:0px;}</style><center><div id="Waverly"><div id="picWaverly"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/3x1HcnzP/Waverly-HTML.jpg"/></div><div id="wrapperWaverly"><p id="quoteWaverly" align="center">your heart, it's like a drum<br>the chase has just begun</p><p id="textWaverly" align="justify">She is mindless now. Little more than a feral cat backed into an alley corner by a pack of rabid dogs. And they drag her away like one, teeth and claws sinking into scaled flesh as they pull her deep into the putrid tunnels. The wash of dim red light emitted by the glowing, fungi-covered walls throw her unnatural features into archaic relief, highlighting the first meeting between the monsters of star and sea.
They are not so very different in the end, are they? Only now, rather than predator, she has become prey. As though fate were laughing at her for her endless hubris.
In the face of his unfathomable stare and infinite teeth, she becomes little more than the quicksilver fish she often enjoyed between meals. As her tormentors march into his waiting jaws to be chewed like particularly crisp grapes, she can only stare in savage fascination. A moment later, a faint pop and grind accompany her own transformation into something other. If he were going to feast, he would not have her.
No, he would settle for the false, hauntingly beautiful facade that had served her so well in her hunts. Her own angler light, just as his minions were to him.
She hisses, thrashing with involuntary violence when he plucks her from the damp stone, turning her this way and that as though inspecting a particularly detailed stone. Instinct rages at her to use tooth and claw against him, but experience has taught her the futility. She may have lost this war, but neither would he truly win.
And then, much to her surprise, he sets her down gently without even taking a nibble.
The hiss of acid splashing stone and the accusatory whispers of the damned are the only music to serenade them in this time lost duel. She stares at him as his jaws gape wide. The sight of him disturbs her on a visceral level, but she would look the one who had finally bested her in the face, even as endless and unfathomable as it is. Let him know his prey as he had made her know her own.
She may not know regret and pain in the same fashion as others. May too easily forget her transgressions against the world. But she does know this. She knows the intimacy of a relationship forged between one who kills and one who is killed. And she would not honor him with hers, no matter how he attempted to claw at the recesses of her primitive mind.
Her impossible beauty is all that is left to greet him when she accepts the inevitability of her fate. The falsest part of her steps into his jaws to be chewed and swallowed and burned by unearthly acid. The pain does not make her scream as her accusers cackle. Instead she absorbs it into herself, accepting the inescapability of her end. Recognizing it as is her due in the course of death. Until there is simply nothing.</p><p id="nameWaverly" align="center">Waverly</p></div></div></center>
They are not so very different in the end, are they? Only now, rather than predator, she has become prey. As though fate were laughing at her for her endless hubris.
In the face of his unfathomable stare and infinite teeth, she becomes little more than the quicksilver fish she often enjoyed between meals. As her tormentors march into his waiting jaws to be chewed like particularly crisp grapes, she can only stare in savage fascination. A moment later, a faint pop and grind accompany her own transformation into something other. If he were going to feast, he would not have her.
No, he would settle for the false, hauntingly beautiful facade that had served her so well in her hunts. Her own angler light, just as his minions were to him.
She hisses, thrashing with involuntary violence when he plucks her from the damp stone, turning her this way and that as though inspecting a particularly detailed stone. Instinct rages at her to use tooth and claw against him, but experience has taught her the futility. She may have lost this war, but neither would he truly win.
And then, much to her surprise, he sets her down gently without even taking a nibble.
The hiss of acid splashing stone and the accusatory whispers of the damned are the only music to serenade them in this time lost duel. She stares at him as his jaws gape wide. The sight of him disturbs her on a visceral level, but she would look the one who had finally bested her in the face, even as endless and unfathomable as it is. Let him know his prey as he had made her know her own.
She may not know regret and pain in the same fashion as others. May too easily forget her transgressions against the world. But she does know this. She knows the intimacy of a relationship forged between one who kills and one who is killed. And she would not honor him with hers, no matter how he attempted to claw at the recesses of her primitive mind.
Her impossible beauty is all that is left to greet him when she accepts the inevitability of her fate. The falsest part of her steps into his jaws to be chewed and swallowed and burned by unearthly acid. The pain does not make her scream as her accusers cackle. Instead she absorbs it into herself, accepting the inescapability of her end. Recognizing it as is her due in the course of death. Until there is simply nothing.</p><p id="nameWaverly" align="center">Waverly</p></div></div></center>