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01-16-2014, 06:15 PM
The only thing that matters in life is survival. Life depends on survival as a planet depends on gravitational love between itself and its moon. Life depends on an orbit, revolving span produced a rolodex with all the instincts applied to adaptation, evolution, and beyond. The world is truly our oyster, and we've become accustom to the freaks of nature life was built to protect and produce. All of it drained into spirits, into entities, which we soon embodied. We learned to fight the peacemaker and run from the bombs. Feuille's breath finally ran out. She collapsed, pitchy groan rolling in her throat while she squirmed. As her windpipe refused to open, her mouth attempted to grope the air, to swallow it, but the hoof-weight on her airway turned her red. It lasted seconds but each one felt like years of brutal seasons. Fawn flesh cut like butter to the demon's horn, it had already been red, as if it was born that way. Blade chased along her shoulderline, down her body, seductively, execrably. She could not feel anymore. Her legs had run themselves out and the lack of oxygen released adrenaline, so much that she could not even see. Blood, wilted and rosy, traced down the carving of her body as the demon proceeded work. It was brash and wild, lacerations coming in the fifties, in seconds that moved like minutes. But as it moved back up her once beautiful bodice, the cutter made one final jar of her head and surged her blade into the muscle of Feuille's delicate neck. The mare's head writhed, in an exonerating way under the pain - the only pain she felt - before she finally submitted herself to all darkness. Unconscious, she did not feel the spiral weapon slide away from her neck and the grip on her throat release. She did not feel the creature, undoubtedly wicked, move to her face and press the gelatinous tongue against the wounds, sealing the lines of her face in effluviuous saliva. The demon pulled away from her work, looking as though Feuille was artistic laying there in her own coagulating blood. But the demon would not hear screams, perhaps not if life lost its gravitational love with survival. [Sorry RE, I was a little reluctant to post after ali's awesome maiming of Feu] |
