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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
#4
06-17-2013, 08:28 PM


Confutatis

Confutatis was not a child thief; not yet, that is. The mare, half-blind, has shadows in her sightless eye, a storm of flickering darkness. She moves silently, a smear of charcoal in the white. Every step is languid but restless, the tired tiger trapped inside its puny cage, impatient and ill at ease with the people rattling the iron bars. The beast moves swifter, moving from long-strided walk to lazy trot, ears twitching restlessly, the ruby stallion of yesterday's adventures still present in her mind, the dark velvet of his voice rubbing sinister against the torn satin of her mind.

Her haunting amber eye half-closes, shutting out the silently sweeping snow whispering across the crust of the Frostbreath Steppe, allowing the resident blackness rise up from her foul heart, engulfing her in silent and vicious vileness, repellent darkness, the cemetery's inhabitants at night.

Confutatis is malignant; corrupted and blackened, twisted and rotten, evil and sinister, wicked and heartless. Her mouth is acid, and the cavity inside her chest containing the shriveled thing that is her heart is falling into decay. Is it possible for her to love, to let warmth blossom in her deadened body? What is she but a feral woman, a madman, an ingenious beast playing civility? What is her low, what is her ultimatum? Does it exist, the invisible boundary between far and too far? She had born a child before, and gifted him with excruciating death- who was to say she would not stoop so low again? Bitter witch, hating bitch. The queen spun of shadows moves forward, towards what she has heard, to the shrieks and cries of desperation and raw anger.

What she finds is a sight for tired eyes, so rottenly sweet it makes her dizzy with contempt.

"No," the wicked monster murmurs, drawing nearer, snow swirling around her shadowed body. "Leave the child." Confutatis growls, her voice low and deep, a rusted machine coarse from disuse. "Leave."

Was it compassion in her chest?

Or was it the idea of something new?



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Messages In This Thread
» where are you? [open] - by Kovoden - 05-20-2013, 06:39 PM
RE: » where are you? [open] - by Storm - 05-21-2013, 12:43 PM
RE: » where are you? [open] - by Kovoden - 06-02-2013, 08:05 PM
RE: » where are you? [open] - by Confutatis - 06-17-2013, 08:28 PM

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