05-04-2020, 10:45 PM
GHAUL
i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back
Ghaul has never stopped to consider why some dark magic shaped him so cruelly while the rest of his family is beautiful. But then, he has no concept of beauty and aesthetics – there is only efficiency and weakness. This body resists the heat of summer days in the sun and the inner flame keeps away the winter nights. This is all he has ever needed to know about his own shape, he thinks.
When Bane does not respond to his clicking, he finds himself mildly disappointed. Not a hunting partner, then. But he speaks, at least, and a smile forms across Ghaul’s scar tissue lips to reveal the crooked crocodilian fangs lining his mouth. His laugh echoes Wolfbane’s in a rasping tone as he draws closer, tail flicking from side to side as he examines him. His outline changes and the warmth of his skin changes until it becomes a weaker form of his own scaling. The monster sniffs curiously as he notes the difference in their scents.
When he reaches Bane’s face, he pauses briefly to admire the curled horns so much like his own. How flattering, to see what he would look like if he had eyes with which to see the world. But do those eyes see the way a body goes cold after it screams its muffled swan songs?
“Wolfbane,” he repeats in something like a delighted snarl. “I am Ghaul, unimportant as that may be.”
Many strange creatures have come to Pangea seeking their own interests and he is not surprised that this one if the same. Pangea has no laws to muzzle its inhabitants, which draws the strongest to its ranks. Still, he is delighted to meet a new face that may share in his ravenous hunger.
“We have a reputation for being aggressive. They take my displays of strength as acts of violence,” he says with a shrug of his broad shoulder. “But what interests you, Wolfbane?”
His smile fades. It’s hard to tell, but his expression grows very serious now as he watches the other carefully. Ghaul does not take kindly to dreams or wild desires that do not align with his own. He remembers the way his own blood tasted in his mouth when Sochi ripped his face open, and he wonders if a mimic would be the same. That thick black tongue traces his sharp teeth, eager to watch the next few seconds unfold.
When Bane does not respond to his clicking, he finds himself mildly disappointed. Not a hunting partner, then. But he speaks, at least, and a smile forms across Ghaul’s scar tissue lips to reveal the crooked crocodilian fangs lining his mouth. His laugh echoes Wolfbane’s in a rasping tone as he draws closer, tail flicking from side to side as he examines him. His outline changes and the warmth of his skin changes until it becomes a weaker form of his own scaling. The monster sniffs curiously as he notes the difference in their scents.
When he reaches Bane’s face, he pauses briefly to admire the curled horns so much like his own. How flattering, to see what he would look like if he had eyes with which to see the world. But do those eyes see the way a body goes cold after it screams its muffled swan songs?
“Wolfbane,” he repeats in something like a delighted snarl. “I am Ghaul, unimportant as that may be.”
Many strange creatures have come to Pangea seeking their own interests and he is not surprised that this one if the same. Pangea has no laws to muzzle its inhabitants, which draws the strongest to its ranks. Still, he is delighted to meet a new face that may share in his ravenous hunger.
“We have a reputation for being aggressive. They take my displays of strength as acts of violence,” he says with a shrug of his broad shoulder. “But what interests you, Wolfbane?”
His smile fades. It’s hard to tell, but his expression grows very serious now as he watches the other carefully. Ghaul does not take kindly to dreams or wild desires that do not align with his own. He remembers the way his own blood tasted in his mouth when Sochi ripped his face open, and he wonders if a mimic would be the same. That thick black tongue traces his sharp teeth, eager to watch the next few seconds unfold.