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08-27-2013, 07:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-27-2013, 07:49 PM by Confutatis.)
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Children were precious in this world of shadow where naught but the darkest of villainous devils survived. Did they have enough value to be a worthy sacrifice? Would the gods of Helovia finally have their eyes opened to the monster that lurked? "Hush child," she soothed, stepping up to the trembling filly. Her amber eye was stern and sharp, a pool of melting gold. Still the foal shook, trembled, at the hellion's breath between her ears. The tiniest of reddish bumps was upon her forehead, where a horn might spring from in the next month. If she had lived that long. For many moments she simply breathed, until the quivering slowed and the child was lulled to sleep from the "maternal" mare's warmth against her creamy skin. How would it look if Confutatis stole the skin off her body, wore it as a cape about her neck? When time came to kill again, she would hunt down the whitest of all horses- a unicorn with a horn of pearl- and slough the skin from it's body, so it may wake screaming and see it's own blood staining the earth. Before it dies. She begins, stroke by stroke, skinning the child with her mouth of acid, tongue pulling the skin from muscle and sinew. It's not long before the filly begins screaming, but Confutatis begins singing, louder and louder, drowning out the sounds of pain, and the ravens gather on the trees, silent sentries to a murder, murder. "Death, death Is something I forgive, Dust and ash, Soot and corpses, Blood and bones, Carrion crows, Gathering close, Beaks coming to break the silence, Ice cracks, Birds sing, Feathers drift, and we all scream. Wolf, wolf, very bad wolf, He'll come to eat you when you sleep." Blood is falling on the ground, dirt and dust over all. Salt and sweats burns in the air, hot on her lips, and Confutatis watches the bloody work come to an end. |
