10-12-2025, 01:46 PM
S E V E R E
She doesn’t find them especially interesting, but she finds that she likes watching them anyway.
She likes the way they convince themselves their mundane lives are not, in fact, mundane. That their politics and quarrels matter, that their love will last or that anyone will even remember their name once they are rotted in the soil. But there is little else to hold her attention, and so here she lingers at the river’s edge in the shadow of the trees, pulling a cloak of it around herself to hide the glowing silver of her eyes.
From here she sees the encroaching red glow that soon reveals itself to be a mare. Curiosity snags like a hook, and her eyes narrow in on their new target, her pulse quickening just slightly. She likes the transparency of her skin — likes that she can see the puzzle of her bones and the way they fit together, and marvels at what it might be like to watch them break. Severe is not typically one to relish in physical pain, but, she also has never been presented with someone that looks quite like this.
“Hello,” comes the soft, nearly serpentine-like sound of her voice, the single word somehow coiled and slippery. She sheds the shadow like a snake sheds its skin, her eyes shining and bright in the dark, and she fixes her best impression of an easy smile to her face as she steps forward. It is difficult to appear friendly, she has found, when there is nothing at all soft about her — not her twisted horns or her scaled skin, her unsettling eyes or the sharp point of her tail. Perhaps the mare will not notice any of that though. “I take it you don’t like ice?” she asks her in an attempt at light-heartedness, gesturing to the slick, frozen surface of the river, that smile still unflinching.
She likes the way they convince themselves their mundane lives are not, in fact, mundane. That their politics and quarrels matter, that their love will last or that anyone will even remember their name once they are rotted in the soil. But there is little else to hold her attention, and so here she lingers at the river’s edge in the shadow of the trees, pulling a cloak of it around herself to hide the glowing silver of her eyes.
From here she sees the encroaching red glow that soon reveals itself to be a mare. Curiosity snags like a hook, and her eyes narrow in on their new target, her pulse quickening just slightly. She likes the transparency of her skin — likes that she can see the puzzle of her bones and the way they fit together, and marvels at what it might be like to watch them break. Severe is not typically one to relish in physical pain, but, she also has never been presented with someone that looks quite like this.
“Hello,” comes the soft, nearly serpentine-like sound of her voice, the single word somehow coiled and slippery. She sheds the shadow like a snake sheds its skin, her eyes shining and bright in the dark, and she fixes her best impression of an easy smile to her face as she steps forward. It is difficult to appear friendly, she has found, when there is nothing at all soft about her — not her twisted horns or her scaled skin, her unsettling eyes or the sharp point of her tail. Perhaps the mare will not notice any of that though. “I take it you don’t like ice?” she asks her in an attempt at light-heartedness, gesturing to the slick, frozen surface of the river, that smile still unflinching.
INNOCENCE DIED SCREAMING, HONEY, ASK ME, I SHOULD KNOW
@Fazia