the Rift


[OPEN] Inchoation

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
#1
Imperfection stretched tight over bony skull and sharp hips, a deepening exhaustion wrought into deep lines of pale face, she moves with quiet; her rump swinging side-to-side, neck swaying gentle, head bobbing lazily up and down, step after step. Time has given her bold contours, carved her satin skull out of craggy rock; ears notched and battered, bruises tantamount on charcoal hide. In utter unison, they make movement a dance, an endless waltz on yellowed grass rather than pearl floors, weaving around each other, vilified monstrosities, ostracized aberrants. He slithers sinuously between hoof and hock, fetlock and pastern, oily shadow with chest pressed close to sod and soil, wet black nose flared, scenting salt and blood and gray grass and sap of trees. Her Mongrel; they are partners in thralling, evanescent caper, all rich faded beauty, glorious tapestry gone to waste in the shadows of a cobwebbed basement. They savor the taste of decay, enraptured within the rabbits' burrows of one another's mind, dream-walkers in the real world.

Dawn fades to high day, the harsh burn of sunlight scalding on soot skin, gleaming off weathered scars, indulging herself in her silent solipsism; reflecting on the incidencies of life and the unlikelihoods of her wants, her desires and voracious ambitions, her hungry of which may not be sated.

Mongrel flits ahead, tails writhing, jaws parted in malicious simper, hardened amber eyes glinting, twin suns, and he keens his euphoric elation; blood drips from his yellowed jaws, spots of crimson fallen, mouse clenched tight between curved teeth. It squeaks and shrills its despondent hope, and the fangs cut in deeper, sadistic, wicked, but not tight enough to kill; taking pleasure in another's pain, for it tastes far better than the tender flesh itself. And in silent pride his bonded watches beneath the white eye of the sun, shadows crawling harsh and deep beneath her widow-black bodice, lips curled in endearing smile, watching the mouse squirm, watching it run away, only to be snapped up again in his vicious mouth. Meaningless, pointless, foolish fun, with nothing better to occupy the dull length of painful time.



Messages In This Thread
Inchoation - by Confutatis - 01-01-2014, 11:57 PM
RE: Inchoation - by Shajake - 01-02-2014, 12:37 AM

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