04-03-2019, 03:13 PM
you are sacred because i have made you sacred.
Beelzebub
He turns his head slowly, slowly when he hears a stranger call out in his direction. He has seen other children but he has no siblings that he is aware of and there are none in the wilderness where he and Glassheart wander. Beelzebub watches her with wide golden eyes as she questions him but his attention quickly drifts to the already wilting bouquet between her little hooves. More demands, more of her child-voice filling his ears but he’s only interested in the little colorful bundle on the ground when he steps closer. A brief touch of his lips forces the flowers’ petal to burst back into life as they form new roots that weave down into the dirt at his insistence.
He didn’t mean to, but now the bouquet is planted once more. Beelzebub blinks curiously as the grass around his legs slowly grows up high enough to tickle his chin until he lifts his head. He envies her horn but his eyes remain simple golden voids as he stares at her. Beelzebub keeps all his thoughts in the furthest recesses of his mind so his expression betrays not a single emotion.
Still, little amber scales begin to form along his spine as the jealousy takes root. A little ridge of thorns become vaguely pronounced but he doesn’t seem to notice or care as he just continues on with that soulless face.
“What’s your name?” he finally asks, dismissing all of her own questions without a second thought. “Mine is Beelzebub. My mom calls me Bub, or sometimes Bee.”
The scales slowly spread up his thin baby-shoulders and onto his cheeks, glimmering and pearlescent in the summer sun. If it hurts or itches him at all then he certainly shows no sign of it. His attention remains entirely focused on studying her face while he waits for her to speak. A shadowy thought brushes its fingers through his mind and infects his innocent imaginings. I could break off her horn. Then neither of us would have it. That would be more fair.
His little teeth clack together at the idea of gripping her little horn between them but he says nothing on the matter.
He didn’t mean to, but now the bouquet is planted once more. Beelzebub blinks curiously as the grass around his legs slowly grows up high enough to tickle his chin until he lifts his head. He envies her horn but his eyes remain simple golden voids as he stares at her. Beelzebub keeps all his thoughts in the furthest recesses of his mind so his expression betrays not a single emotion.
Still, little amber scales begin to form along his spine as the jealousy takes root. A little ridge of thorns become vaguely pronounced but he doesn’t seem to notice or care as he just continues on with that soulless face.
“What’s your name?” he finally asks, dismissing all of her own questions without a second thought. “Mine is Beelzebub. My mom calls me Bub, or sometimes Bee.”
The scales slowly spread up his thin baby-shoulders and onto his cheeks, glimmering and pearlescent in the summer sun. If it hurts or itches him at all then he certainly shows no sign of it. His attention remains entirely focused on studying her face while he waits for her to speak. A shadowy thought brushes its fingers through his mind and infects his innocent imaginings. I could break off her horn. Then neither of us would have it. That would be more fair.
His little teeth clack together at the idea of gripping her little horn between them but he says nothing on the matter.
there is no burning that i did not create.
@[Citadelle]