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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    god make me pay like the devil i am - kylin
    #11
    god make me pay,
    like the devil i am
    He muses quietly to himself, wondering what would happen if another was to suddenly come upon them while they romp (it would look so innocent to a bystander) in the ocean’s spray. He wonders if he’d be asked to leave Ischia again. It wouldn’t surprise him; he’s well aware that other kingdoms most likely have already banished him from their borders – he brings destruction with him and leaves chaos in his wake. He, despite his nomadic ways, continues to find himself back on Ischia’s calm shoreline, welcomed as a visitor only by one while the lavender prince looks down upon him in utter disgust (the look had been rather unbecoming on the then-colt Kharon, those few seasons back). His hate fuels him, their unease and quiet terseness at his presence fuels him, brings him purpose, makes him feel alive. 

    Maugrim almost feels a bit sorry that Kylin had strode upon him in the shadows of the heavy tropical foliage, knowing that soon his thirst will not be satisfied by mere pleasantries and splashing at the water’s edge. His curiosity will calm and his interest in learning about her will fade, and soon after that moment, there will be nothing left for him to do than to practice his artwork and skill - as he does every time he becomes bored - with her as his living palette. 

    She might be the only one who has ever shown him true kindness, despite the obvious wariness that she still harbors as she moves around him. Everything in her had to be screaming at her, to become consciously aware of the foreboding danger that stands now on the precipice, but his sorrowful story proves to be enough to quell that feeling for now, empathizing with him and wanting to prove that Ischia was not as cruel as it had been in the past. 

    His dark, seemingly bottomless eyes slide to her slowly, the pale and pearlescent lavender patterns on his face sharpening as the angles of his face change slightly. Curious, he thinks, as her response almost feigns admiration for the water that he has submerged himself in, her voice as gentle and sweet as it had been when she first approached him. It peaks his interest once more (she would never know how lucky she is, continuing his curiosity with every statement spoken), dark evergreen ears pricking towards her. 

    “I know,” she says to him boldly, a wry smile on her pale, beautiful lips. It almost makes him angry, the confidence in her voice as it rings into his ears – it’s almost enough for him to bend the water around her stomach and throw her in, her certainty of the ocean causing his stomach to roll with rage once more – the ocean was his to understand, not hers. 

    As he inhales deeply, with his intention of causing a large swell to drag her to where she could not reach the sandy bottom, the water begins to recede quite unnaturally and quickly, moving with his very breath. 

    Again, such a lucky girl.

    With wide, darkening eyes, he watches as she steps out onto the water, meeting him with dainty steps on its surface. He holds his breath, the gentle swell that had begun moments before now becoming frozen in time, suspended and frozen as she walks gingerly on the water, the soft sound of her hooves meeting its surface tinkling in his ears. He exhales extremely slowly, releasing the water from his grasp so that it laps quietly at the shore, to simply watch her trick, something that, for the first time since his encounter with Deathwish, left him mesmerized. 

    “She’s chosen you, like she’s chosen me.”

    His voice is haunting and elusive, crackling against the air between them. He wonders if he can submerge her still, despite her weightlessness above the water’s surface. She moves quickly, throwing him a smile before taking off down the shoreline, and the sound of water opening up and attempting to bury her beneath it is shrouded by the sound of her propelling herself forward. He watches her for a moment, pale and cracked lips twitching as he realizes he waited just a moment too soon in his attempts to swallow her whole. 

    With a single breath and a soft splash, he melts into the water much like ice would melt in a glass, liquefying himself and spinning the water so that he is moving with her, beneath the surface. The only semblance of his presence is the way the water now moves laterally instead of in towards the shore. He allows himself to move carefully alongside her for a moment, delighting in the fact that he may now hungrily stare at her since he had no face for her to see, a devilish smile finding his lips if he had any.
    m a u g r i m.


    @[Kylin]

    Basically, he tried to see if he moved the water from beneath her if she would fall (she moved faster than he could do it, lol) and now he's pretty much just water running next to her right now, if she is able to tell he is next to her in complete liquid form is up to you!
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