the Rift


[OPEN] In Over My Head

Confutatis the World Eater Posts: 179
Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions wanda
#7
Youth; pretentious children with their unlikely dreams and laughable hopes, with the ability to make light of what was dark. Confutatis did not envy them, nor she could she imagine of how powerful innocence was, for she herself had been denied the luxury of a childhood, with her acidic saliva and poison mouth. From the moment she sprung from the womb, she was scorned and shunned. She did not know this made her what she was. No, she considered herself lucky to have avoided a mother's love and father's demands.

The Lady Death is a denizen of destruction, a vassal of misery, and enthralled by her own evil she forgets what might have been and could have been.

Spittle drips from her lips as she throws a scornful glance towards the boy king and his wise council. Confutatis does not care for the preaching of misplaced faith! Indeed, she laughs at him, a grating, croaking scent rather similar to the cackle of a nefarious witch, nostrils flaring, and her grin is Death. "This is the undead, warlock magic you deal with, b o y, and the living do not live when the dead is not dead." Amber eyes gleam with wicked amusement at sight of his wariness, teeth bared in gruesome grim smile, foam dripping from her charcoal lips, and she leers, an adult among children, a wolf among lambs. How easy killing it would be!

There is a trembling exhale sputtering from ochre muzzle; she casts the vulgar yellow of her gaze upon Silverhorn, the child lady, who quivers and shivers; how touching it is, the sight of fear and t e r r o r. "Do not worry- I have little care for children." Idle tones state as mockery of comfort and conciliation- despite it's truthfulness- her voice void of sincerity, filled with crawling malice.

Mongrel's lips curl into crescent moon grin, tongue slipping flippantly to trace the contours of his wet black lips.

With an odd jerk her head turns, to view the boy who approaches; there is a cock to her skull, a sibilant tilt that echoes of something sinister. "Good is vile and bad is ecstacy," she responds, despite the comment not being directed to her. A hoof cocks beneath her as the mare settles her weight, seeming at ease surrounded by possible foes (children! as if!)


sorry for the late post guys, I totally forgot about this thread!
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Messages In This Thread
In Over My Head - by Mesec - 02-02-2014, 12:51 AM
RE: In Over My Head - by Frost Fyre - 02-02-2014, 06:12 PM
RE: In Over My Head - by Confutatis - 02-02-2014, 08:58 PM
RE: In Over My Head - by Mesec - 02-04-2014, 09:21 AM
RE: In Over My Head - by Sacre - 02-05-2014, 06:49 PM
RE: In Over My Head - by Frost Fyre - 02-05-2014, 08:10 PM

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