07-24-2017, 02:06 PM
god make me pay,
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
He has become anything but complacent.
His tricks in Hyaline seem to have trickled throughout all of Beqanna, whispers of kingdoms strengthening their guard and others out looking for blood to spill and bones to break. He grins, knowing that he is but a ghost on the wind, a fluttering phantom with no ties or home to alliance himself with; merely a ghoulish stallion with no sentiment or reflection on what he had done when he banded with the others and attacked the quiet, yet extremely unprepared, kingdom. He wonders how many now know his name.
Oftentimes he would quietly let his mind slip (though he would not admit how often) to where the pyro (his opposite) had gone to hide. He did not take the bay sabino as a cowardly companion, but perhaps the rift between them is a good thing – Maugrim did not want to be weighed down by those who feel regret for the things they do. The only regret that the patterned stallion had ever felt was that he did not kill the ‘little queen’ when he had the chance. Submerging her beneath the now-poisoned waters of her own home would have made for a delectable memory for him to reflect on, something to lull him to sleep at night.
The young colt he used to be is left behind, no longer small-chested and spindly, but tall and muscular, his legs and body powerful from the time he spends in the water. His eyes remain the same – dark and empty, with barely a window to see into his soul. Dark evergreen melded with the pale, pearlescent lavender of his pattern causes him to be memorable, unforgettable. He is a constant predator searching for prey, a lust within him ravaging his entire core unceasingly (not a lust of blood, but a lust of raw, unadulterated power). Death intrigues him, water enraptures him, emotions are foreign to him.
Maugrim is constantly moving, taking up characteristics of the winding river or tempestuous sea that he is so fond of. That is his home, not the meadow, nor the forest, nor Ischia. The water is his only companion, his only source of peace. Even now, with the meadows' rolling grasses and sparsely growing trees, he is uncomfortable and a little bit aggravated, but he did not expect to become feared if he spent all of his days at the bottom of the ocean.
His dark eyes see her with the uncanny quickness of a predator, their bottomless depths quickly finding her figure as the bright green and red flash almost uncontrollably. His face, ever emotionless, sharpened with the stoic angles of his jawbones and the dark hollows beneath his eyes, turns slowly to her, despite her wavering appearance. He had met a creature much like her before, though her frame had remained completely hidden with only fangs protruding from a Cheshire-like smile. He had tried to bring her into the depths with him, but even with his powerful ability, he could not quite grasp her invisible legs enough to drag her in.
The stallion snorts sharply, curious as he always is, and with his growth, a bit better at socializing. He enjoys the thrilling chase before their demise, to let them grow comfortable and trusting before tying that noose around their ever patiently awaiting neck. Sometimes, however, he fails at the charming bit of his act and the second the trust wavers or they begin to guess his intentions, the lust takes over and he hungrily lets the water fill up their lungs and throat.
He slowly walks towards her with deliberate and calculating steps as his dark and never-ending eyes bore into her. A ripple of thunder rumbles within the depths of the now darkening sky, somewhere in the nearby distance, a foreboding sound that shakes the very foundations of the earth. Lightning is yet to be seen, but the threat of a spring-time storm is near at hand. The timing is impeccable.
“You seem nervous,” His voice is metallic and rigid, his throat rough from salt and disuse, as it leaves his pale and cracked lips, dried from constant seawater and sun. Another peal of thunder tumbles from the sky, thrumming delightfully in his chest as his slow beating heart begins to quicken.
His tricks in Hyaline seem to have trickled throughout all of Beqanna, whispers of kingdoms strengthening their guard and others out looking for blood to spill and bones to break. He grins, knowing that he is but a ghost on the wind, a fluttering phantom with no ties or home to alliance himself with; merely a ghoulish stallion with no sentiment or reflection on what he had done when he banded with the others and attacked the quiet, yet extremely unprepared, kingdom. He wonders how many now know his name.
Oftentimes he would quietly let his mind slip (though he would not admit how often) to where the pyro (his opposite) had gone to hide. He did not take the bay sabino as a cowardly companion, but perhaps the rift between them is a good thing – Maugrim did not want to be weighed down by those who feel regret for the things they do. The only regret that the patterned stallion had ever felt was that he did not kill the ‘little queen’ when he had the chance. Submerging her beneath the now-poisoned waters of her own home would have made for a delectable memory for him to reflect on, something to lull him to sleep at night.
The young colt he used to be is left behind, no longer small-chested and spindly, but tall and muscular, his legs and body powerful from the time he spends in the water. His eyes remain the same – dark and empty, with barely a window to see into his soul. Dark evergreen melded with the pale, pearlescent lavender of his pattern causes him to be memorable, unforgettable. He is a constant predator searching for prey, a lust within him ravaging his entire core unceasingly (not a lust of blood, but a lust of raw, unadulterated power). Death intrigues him, water enraptures him, emotions are foreign to him.
Maugrim is constantly moving, taking up characteristics of the winding river or tempestuous sea that he is so fond of. That is his home, not the meadow, nor the forest, nor Ischia. The water is his only companion, his only source of peace. Even now, with the meadows' rolling grasses and sparsely growing trees, he is uncomfortable and a little bit aggravated, but he did not expect to become feared if he spent all of his days at the bottom of the ocean.
His dark eyes see her with the uncanny quickness of a predator, their bottomless depths quickly finding her figure as the bright green and red flash almost uncontrollably. His face, ever emotionless, sharpened with the stoic angles of his jawbones and the dark hollows beneath his eyes, turns slowly to her, despite her wavering appearance. He had met a creature much like her before, though her frame had remained completely hidden with only fangs protruding from a Cheshire-like smile. He had tried to bring her into the depths with him, but even with his powerful ability, he could not quite grasp her invisible legs enough to drag her in.
The stallion snorts sharply, curious as he always is, and with his growth, a bit better at socializing. He enjoys the thrilling chase before their demise, to let them grow comfortable and trusting before tying that noose around their ever patiently awaiting neck. Sometimes, however, he fails at the charming bit of his act and the second the trust wavers or they begin to guess his intentions, the lust takes over and he hungrily lets the water fill up their lungs and throat.
He slowly walks towards her with deliberate and calculating steps as his dark and never-ending eyes bore into her. A ripple of thunder rumbles within the depths of the now darkening sky, somewhere in the nearby distance, a foreboding sound that shakes the very foundations of the earth. Lightning is yet to be seen, but the threat of a spring-time storm is near at hand. The timing is impeccable.
“You seem nervous,” His voice is metallic and rigid, his throat rough from salt and disuse, as it leaves his pale and cracked lips, dried from constant seawater and sun. Another peal of thunder tumbles from the sky, thrumming delightfully in his chest as his slow beating heart begins to quicken.
m a u g r i m.
@[elve]
sorry for the novel, the muse hit me like crazy for some reason!