| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 |
| M.E. |
Zikar-Sin had known that Deimos was a creature of death and decay, that he reviled in the ash-grey end time of things and creatures; he recalled the worst kept secret of the Basin citizens, that, inside the ice-cold, granite hard, glass-sharpened exterior of their current Lord, therein flowed something dangerous and dark, pulsing hotly, false blood in false veins that carried a kind of treacherous power within. It wasn’t until now, however, that the Disciple was able to see this proposed danger within their ex-General—and indeed, until this moment, Sin had been a healthy, happy cynic, willing to believe in destruction when things and creatures were promptly destroyed, their black veils descending to suffocate and rock gently (or not so gently) into easy (or not so easy) slumber.
Here it was, though; his Lord of catastrophe playing the stony-eyed role of harbinger for the grim reaper’s scythe. It was a rather handsome specimen that Deimos was strangling with that twisted siren’s song of his—handsome in the academic sense, of course. For in the robust contour of the chest, the healthy rump, the fullness of stomach and grand arch of neck; the powerful bulge of muscle and the correct, regular straightness of the leg; the agreeable line of its back, the curve of wither; the precise profile of nose and face; the gloss of coat—in short, in everything possible (other than the deplorable, grotesque lack of a horn), the equine creature was the picture of perfect health. It only excited Sin more so to know that here was a fresh, ready-made specimen for research, other than the now-useless corpse of disease-ridden origins. The scholar was almost breathless with excitement; he watched as the kneeling corpse finally tilted on the ground, watched the last breaths attempt to escape the confines of the stiffening chest.
It was then that he finally approached—and his mouth opened.
“Oh sir, good-day to you, my Lord!” It was a cheery voice, for Sin was every cheery; and it was breathless as well, for the void in Sin’s soul fluttered in anticipation. “How very good for us, to be rid of vermin and an infidel as well, in one valiant stroke. I must ask how his corpse will be employed, though?” There was little time for the dull niceties of society—the eyes indicated as such, whirring behind the frosted lense of the monocle, Sin drinking in the image of the oversized ragdoll of horseflesh. “I wonder, perhaps, if I should be permitted into observance of the skull and its properties, and also, perchance, the shoulder plates as well? Or if I might be able to better observe the hoof of the creature, or its mane and tail before it properly decays; mayhaps I might take a look at its femur and knee, the ligaments of the creature—and yes, the creature is very much just dying, so that the organs would be in superb condition to analyze digestion…” The Disciple was quite gone in his ramblings; and though he could not strike a killing blow, nothing excited the Disciple so much as something so freshly dead and ready for scrutiny.
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IMG Credit: ness094@deviantart.com
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[P] In All Chaos, There is Calculation
