06-17-2020, 08:04 PM
lord, I fashion dark gods too;
Missing her means a hundred things. Some are almost normal – the feel of her skin beneath his lips, the scent of her, the dark want as her gaze settles on her. But of course, he misses other things – how she is takes whatever he gives and keeps returning, keeps shuddering under his touch. How she will bleed, drown, burn for him.
(Not that this in itself is special, countless have died for him. It’s that she does this, and she still returns, still with want in her eyes.)
But for all the tenderness – and the not-so-tenderness – of their reunion, the dark god is also a thing that grows bored easily. He has drunk his fill of her body – for now – and his mind has turned to other things, the darker side of his desires.
He listens to her response. She weighs her answer, which he appreciates – not overeager – but his lips tighten at the modifier, that she suggests limits.
(He needs limits, of course. Or, the idea of them. Otherwise, what is there to push against? Even a god needs some friction.)
“I’ve always found you willing,” he says, “even when tested.”
Unfair tests, of course. Was it worth fighting, when the rise of the water was inevitable?
And yet, he brings forth another unfair test. From the woods is a rustle, a snap of branches. A trill, high and almost birdlike. On Carnage’s unspoken cue, the alien emerges, armored and strange. The dark god smiles, and brings it forth, so that she can properly look at it. It is a strange thing, equine but distinctly not.
“Ryatah,” he says, “this is Cthulhu. It’s a stupid, dangerous alien. It feels little emotion.”
The alien trills again. It has words – ill-formed and slow – but Carnage keeps its grasp of language silent. As if this would make it easier.
“I would like you to kill it. I’m asking you to. I want you to. In fact, in this moment, nothing would make me happier.”
He smiles. It is a terrible smile.
Beside him, the creature has gone quiet, as if it, too, awaits her answer.
c a r n a g e
@[Ryatah]