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08-20-2012, 08:52 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-11-2012, 05:32 PM by Prometheus.)
Mercury trails behind my handsome potential form, filling the indentations of my cleft hooves in the mud of this beautifully disgusting place. Every corner of it reeks of death and every blowing wind through the dying trees tells of loss. There is always a low, mourning whistle; the cry of the lost souls as they search endlessly for their purpose in the last scrap of existence that they maintain. I stand tall above them, parting the mists they form with their ghostly remains and sending the mercury down to meet the swamp water's edge in tiny, quick moving rivulets. You avoid the shining metal like it is the plague of life and vivacity that you've long since lost. Your careful and hesitant steps around the trails of it that surround me are an amusing form of entertainment, but I still find myself bored by the outing, even if the destination is my former home. I remember my first days dead, when I was no more than a child sure of my sovereignty. I was lord of the undead, champion of all lost souls, guardian of hell and friend of the reaper. Now I am such a different thing altogether. I've lost my desire to rule, but only to a certain extent. Perhaps I've not lost it so much as let it grow and bloom- my level of maturity has risen with each day, and with it, so has my dangerous level of intelligence. I am able to stride now with a powerful tiger at my side and take any form of myself that I wish; I can mine the earth and exploit its resources for my own benefit. From nothing, I create chains. Chains that wrap around your neck and rattle with each step. Chains of silver and iron, chains that reflect in the mercury stained water and rise the souls of the dead with their clatter. But if one thing has remained the same, it is the hunger. I lower my battered head now to the marsh's shores and pull eagerly at a fly-ridden corpse. There is a deep rumble in your throat as your submissive silence turns into a hungry growl, but in seconds my hoof strikes your shoulder blade and you are reminded of your place. The scent of your blood, hot as it runs from your side to blend with the mercury at my feet, acts only as a reminder of my thirst. I begin to tear at the corpse with my dagger-like hooves and pull its flesh away from its bone with my teeth. The Sun King's request will not go unanswered, but first, a meal. Only when I am satisfied do I step away to let you pick at the remains. Our bond does not always extend to kindness- our love is a strange one, not spoken of in the homes of the living and the civil. You grab hungrily at the bones, leaving them clean and further filthying your dusty coat with the craps of meat. In that moment I find you simply beautiful. My cool legs, spattered in white varnish spotting, are soon submerged in the water, and little grains of sand float to the top to surround me as the metal within them is stirred by my ability. My head lowers beneath the surface and my white eyes seek out the remains of the dead. The snapper fish flee the sight of my face. Even they know to hide from the lord of the dead. |
![[Image: siggy1_zpsfwdjquxw.png]](http://i250.photobucket.com/albums/gg246/abbie3321451/abbie3321451131/siggy1_zpsfwdjquxw.png)
please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.
