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06-20-2012, 07:51 PM
As much as I speak to you, you cannot reply. You never have and I expect that you never will- the day that you answer me is the day that I die, and we both know that's not bound to happen in this falsity of a lifetime. So when the mares appear from the eternal and oppressive light that beats upon my moonlit magic form and threatens to tear down the illusion of my vitality, I do not bother to ask you about them. For I've found that, perhaps by simply being alive yourself, you're more astute when it comes to others. Where I am distant and awkward, you are charismatic and approachable. You appear as an unthreatening cub in the face of any who seem unthreatening to your keen senses. But mine are dulled with decomposition. I scent nothing and see through a thick haze of pus; I hear over the squirming sound of the maggots in my ears. Even now, when the magic dispels such hinderances, I am haunted by the memory of their presence and turn to your judgement. As much as I despise the dependency upon you, I'm not one to deny one's talents when they're liable to come in handy. And then the two mares, black as the night that has escaped this land under the Sun God's hoof, speak to each other, speak to me, speak to us, I leave a long silence as if expecting you to fill it. But it's a vain hope; all you serve to do is step protectively before me and curiously towards the younger of the two- the calmer. She shimmers and my red gaze flickers with hesitation as I become aware of the magic that cloaks her. Perhaps the mare and I are not too dissimilar, then. But to show them me, as I truly am... would that be wise? There's a nudge at my ankle and your gaze meets mine with a spark that seems almost knowing- I wonder if you know my thoughts. I wonder if you're intelligence is matching mine, if you're answering me in your own way. The length of my mane shortens for a few moments, an injured rib pokes through the perfected flesh of my youthful, living hide, and the eyes flicker white. Stranger, she had called me. The mask returns and I appear bold before them, a stallion both handsome and confident. No, we are simply strangers here, despite your easy steps closer to the younger one, and the gentle, dangerous flicks of your tail towards the older one, beckoning her gaze to yours with your power of trance. Your skill with the power of hypnosis has increased over these few months, but in my solitude, it is rare that I see you make use of it. Your golden eyes pierce the pair as you stand before them and stretch your jaws to show your white teeth. As if timed, I speak as your predator's lips part. My words come out cleanly, the usual rasp of my tone smoothed out by magic. "Dead," I utter with a slow blink, my eyes turning a milky white beneath the lids. "Dead, and quite tired of it." |
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please tag Prometheus in all replies!
magic & force is permitted at your own peril.
