04-21-2018, 02:40 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
The salt and tempestuous groaning of the sea has always called to him; like a longing lover with warm fingertips wrapping around his neck. Even now, in the midst of thick forest and dry, cold air, he can hear her wailing, begging for his return to the deep trenches that he once called home. But there is nothing else there for him - nothing but eternal blackness and once bloated corpses that now have turned to brittle bone, picked clean by the bottom-feeders that are his only friends. The voice of the ocean dies away and is replaced with the siren song of the murky water before him - stagnant and cold, still with ever-waiting depths. The River had once been a harbor for him, and now he can feel the familiar tug of this black lake into the depths of his curdled, twisted soul.
Maugrim had begun his transformation, pulling the dark water to his legs so that the dark evergreen and pale lavender of his muscular body became as black as the water. His intention had been to melt into the deep blackness, only emerging for the things that call to him louder than the water: blood and lust. He is interrupted, though. His transformation stops half-way up, his legs completely liquified from his pull of the lakewater to himself. Maugrim’s tongue dampens the cracked and dry pearlescence of his lips, turning his dark eyes into the foreboding shadow of the forest - something watches him, something sinister, but he cannot pinpoint it.
The autumn wind stirs, howling mournfully through the empty cavern that faces his back, pulling his evergreen and pearl tendrils away from his face. A loud snort causes Maugrim’s eyes to snap to Modicum immediately, only clearly seeing the black stallion when he emerges from the shadows and the misty sunlight reveals the brightness of his nose. Maugrim returns the snort with his own - indifferent towards the forest King, though interested enough to remain on the muddy shore. Modicum steps closer to the water and Maugrim watches him possessively, his eyes hooded beneath the furrow of his brow while his pale lips twitch with warning. Not too close, stranger. The water is his.
“Maugrim,” he offers, his voice watery and deep against the stillness of the forest. He continues watching the black stallion, ears tipped back slightly, muscles taut beneath his green and lavender markings. His legs are still made completely from the water of the lake, and Maugrim wonders how quickly he could take Modicum down to the depths with him.
Maugrim had begun his transformation, pulling the dark water to his legs so that the dark evergreen and pale lavender of his muscular body became as black as the water. His intention had been to melt into the deep blackness, only emerging for the things that call to him louder than the water: blood and lust. He is interrupted, though. His transformation stops half-way up, his legs completely liquified from his pull of the lakewater to himself. Maugrim’s tongue dampens the cracked and dry pearlescence of his lips, turning his dark eyes into the foreboding shadow of the forest - something watches him, something sinister, but he cannot pinpoint it.
The autumn wind stirs, howling mournfully through the empty cavern that faces his back, pulling his evergreen and pearl tendrils away from his face. A loud snort causes Maugrim’s eyes to snap to Modicum immediately, only clearly seeing the black stallion when he emerges from the shadows and the misty sunlight reveals the brightness of his nose. Maugrim returns the snort with his own - indifferent towards the forest King, though interested enough to remain on the muddy shore. Modicum steps closer to the water and Maugrim watches him possessively, his eyes hooded beneath the furrow of his brow while his pale lips twitch with warning. Not too close, stranger. The water is his.
“Maugrim,” he offers, his voice watery and deep against the stillness of the forest. He continues watching the black stallion, ears tipped back slightly, muscles taut beneath his green and lavender markings. His legs are still made completely from the water of the lake, and Maugrim wonders how quickly he could take Modicum down to the depths with him.
m a u g r i m.
@[Modicum Mortem]