01-13-2020, 10:06 PM
i will be brutal
He has only just returned to the living and his family but he always finds himself roaming Beqanna in search of something interesting. He moves in the dying light of the day from Tephra, along the paths he vaguely recalls. His body is riddled with scars from wars long forgotten, hunts he barely remembers. Sometimes he dreams of his children that he smothered or crushed but their faces are never clear enough to tell them apart. But they are all part of this endless cycle – he kills, he is killed, he is reborn. The wheel has worn down the edges and he hardly knows how to feel remorse for his crimes any more.
There is only a ravenous loyalty for his favorites, and a ceaseless hunger that churns through his veins.
When he finds the field, the corners of his lips form a faint smile as he slinks forward. His sage green eyes examine those nearby and admire the plethora of oddities all around. Larva had been one of the early monsters – not the first, of course, but they had recoiled from him the moment he emerged into the world. Now the tide has turned and he is as remarkable as the trees around him while everyone else is either horrendous or devastatingly beautiful.
Inevitably, his eyes fall on Wolfbane and he finds himself intrigued by not only the color of him but also his markings. Larva’s head tilts curiously as he moves closer for a better look. His old eyes do not see as well as they used to and he has no concern for antiquities such as manners, so he brings himself directly before Wolfbane so as to block his path and get a better look at him.
“Roaming the field so close to night? I used to do that when I was out looking for trouble.” His laugh echoes dry and raspy, but he does not elaborate. “My name is Larva. What sort of ruckus have you come to bring?”
And he smiles, but even without his pointed teeth, there is little kindness behind the expression. There is only a dark kind of interest growing within him.
There is only a ravenous loyalty for his favorites, and a ceaseless hunger that churns through his veins.
When he finds the field, the corners of his lips form a faint smile as he slinks forward. His sage green eyes examine those nearby and admire the plethora of oddities all around. Larva had been one of the early monsters – not the first, of course, but they had recoiled from him the moment he emerged into the world. Now the tide has turned and he is as remarkable as the trees around him while everyone else is either horrendous or devastatingly beautiful.
Inevitably, his eyes fall on Wolfbane and he finds himself intrigued by not only the color of him but also his markings. Larva’s head tilts curiously as he moves closer for a better look. His old eyes do not see as well as they used to and he has no concern for antiquities such as manners, so he brings himself directly before Wolfbane so as to block his path and get a better look at him.
“Roaming the field so close to night? I used to do that when I was out looking for trouble.” His laugh echoes dry and raspy, but he does not elaborate. “My name is Larva. What sort of ruckus have you come to bring?”
And he smiles, but even without his pointed teeth, there is little kindness behind the expression. There is only a dark kind of interest growing within him.