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02-01-2014, 06:17 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-24-2014, 08:44 PM by Confutatis.)
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Heinous amber eyes bleed bright in the shadows, sinister gold depths that gleam and glisten with vindictive light, pallor of ghastly grin upon sooty face. She watches, aloof monitor, as they trickle down, fear writ on blood-drained faces, angry in the righteous step of long legs, the tears for those lost to the darkness that obliterates and devours, that outcasts the sun and exhales only the most obsolete shadow of misery over the land. How joyous she is, even lurking in the crevices and crannies of the underground, thriving in these monstrous shadows, Mongrel's insistences and thoughts at the back of her skull. Hunger fed by the fear, the hopelessness, the impossible, she devours, she quenches her voracious appetite, and she thrives on the oblivion which has made the brave cower. Here in the caverns, amidst the bowels of the earth, she is impetuous monster, the lurker among the dark, the cruel, grim-faced beast; she watches, reveling in pleasure, at the sounds of fear and terror. With all the savage, ominous movements of a predator closing in for the kill, she approaches, fiendish amusement writ on obsidian features, skull gleaming brilliant white. Monster. She is a MONSTER. They will quell and cower at her apocalyptic approach, slink away as she glares down at them with her sun-yellow eyes, flinch as grating vocals roll across the air. She feasts on it- Confutatis, the wicked beast- the devourer of hope, the vanquisher of good, the portent of evil. Nostrils quiver as she inhales sorrow and anguish, audits twitch as the sound of valiance and honor. Wicked grin crawls across dark lips, festers as a wound does, growing malignantly wider at sight of a stranger's caring and do-gooding. "Not all," she croaks, her voice a rusted knife. "We shall not protect you. You are as good as DEAD child." Contortions curl her face, twist refined features into a sickly sight. "There are no herds. There is no family, no love, no precious protection. The dead walk above us, and we, we are forced into the Underground, where we will ROT and we will DIE fighting to get out." |
