11-30-2020, 09:52 PM
GRIMJAW
The sunset plunges the entire countryside into various shades of fiery red and burnt orange. He hesitates along the treeline until, finally, he begins that short trek to the riverside. His shadow is impossibly long beside him with the barbs along his spine greatly exaggerated. Grimjaw has dreaded the idea of seeing himself and it still makes him sick to his stomach just thinking of it. Having a handsome face had been his one redeeming quality before coming here. It made people tolerate his biting words and forgive his wrongdoings.
He draws a slow breath in as he comes to the water’s edge. Slowly, cautiously, he leans over to meet the bright red of his own eyes. This bone mask swoops beneath his left eye and then forms a horn over his right. The jagged edges of it look like fangs that he certainly did not have before. His brow furrows as his heart breaks - and the emotion can barely be seen on that awful face.
Grimjaw flaps his wings to disturb the water and send ripples splashing over his reflection so he doesn’t have to see it anymore. The sun sinks further beneath the horizon until everything is a shade of purple and black, just like him. He turns from the water and steps back toward the tree line as he grapples with the strangeness of this new form.
But Asena said purple was his favorite color, hadn’t she?
He scoffs at his own optimism. How careless, to try and rebuild his ego around a single compliment. It would take only one insult to tear him down again. But isn’t he already a house of cards just waiting for the faintest breeze to rip him down? Grimjaw can’t help but laugh at the sad, sorry state of himself now. At least he still has a decent voice beneath this mask.
He lifts his head at the sound of someone approaching but he makes no move to meet them halfway. “Is someone there?” he asks in a voice woven from lavender and cardamom.
He draws a slow breath in as he comes to the water’s edge. Slowly, cautiously, he leans over to meet the bright red of his own eyes. This bone mask swoops beneath his left eye and then forms a horn over his right. The jagged edges of it look like fangs that he certainly did not have before. His brow furrows as his heart breaks - and the emotion can barely be seen on that awful face.
Grimjaw flaps his wings to disturb the water and send ripples splashing over his reflection so he doesn’t have to see it anymore. The sun sinks further beneath the horizon until everything is a shade of purple and black, just like him. He turns from the water and steps back toward the tree line as he grapples with the strangeness of this new form.
But Asena said purple was his favorite color, hadn’t she?
He scoffs at his own optimism. How careless, to try and rebuild his ego around a single compliment. It would take only one insult to tear him down again. But isn’t he already a house of cards just waiting for the faintest breeze to rip him down? Grimjaw can’t help but laugh at the sad, sorry state of himself now. At least he still has a decent voice beneath this mask.
He lifts his head at the sound of someone approaching but he makes no move to meet them halfway. “Is someone there?” he asks in a voice woven from lavender and cardamom.