Solanis
08-09-2017, 09:43 PM
Bright teal eyes sharpen on the best of a stallion that seems to morph before his very gaze. The dark warlord goes from soft, sad (—grieving, but the god’s hive-mind isn’t ready for another round of guilt it felt with the last broken Helovian—) to tall titan made hard with angry threats. Amusingly (to Kis), this man is taller than he in his current, odds cervid form; though the god’s mutated antlers reach high above both male bodies and the gold dragon, as if compensating (for his smaller stature, of course).
His head cocks ever so slightly; is this what it is like to watch himself mutate? The god is self-aware enough to know that he holds no true form…but is watching his body change akin to watching this man grow withdesperate ferocity? Did it affect others the way this stallion’s change affected him?
Movement in his claws brings his attention back to the small, flailing limbs of the lava creature. Volterra (—he knew his name? how? oh, of course he knew his name, he had gods crawling through his veins—) had demanded it be put down. And, Kisamoa being the creature that he was, instead started tightening those razor sharp claws around its wiggling, writhing middle.
…but something made him stop.
Mismatched ears flicker around, in an odd moment of uncertainty (though it seemed the Deceiver was having more and more of these moments, lately). Glowing teal eyes look up from the small statue, whose midsection was now in a viselike grip between his talons, and to the indomitable stallion…perhaps not quite so indomitable, in this moment?
Kisamoa looked from horse to statue, pupils becoming round rather than predatory; muzzle shifting between a few creatures in his uncertainty. What has his mind, now overcharged with Rift energy, noticed that halted his crushing claws?
He couldn’t find it…yet. So, he placed the small statue one the ground; but quickly caged it within his over-long claws that dug into the soil around it. “What is it, to you?” His voice, a lighter baritone than the goliath’s, surprisingly held no animosity or condescension in the question. Just a burning curiosity.
His head cocks ever so slightly; is this what it is like to watch himself mutate? The god is self-aware enough to know that he holds no true form…but is watching his body change akin to watching this man grow with
Movement in his claws brings his attention back to the small, flailing limbs of the lava creature. Volterra (—he knew his name? how? oh, of course he knew his name, he had gods crawling through his veins—) had demanded it be put down. And, Kisamoa being the creature that he was, instead started tightening those razor sharp claws around its wiggling, writhing middle.
…but something made him stop.
Mismatched ears flicker around, in an odd moment of uncertainty (though it seemed the Deceiver was having more and more of these moments, lately). Glowing teal eyes look up from the small statue, whose midsection was now in a viselike grip between his talons, and to the indomitable stallion…perhaps not quite so indomitable, in this moment?
Kisamoa looked from horse to statue, pupils becoming round rather than predatory; muzzle shifting between a few creatures in his uncertainty. What has his mind, now overcharged with Rift energy, noticed that halted his crushing claws?
He couldn’t find it…yet. So, he placed the small statue one the ground; but quickly caged it within his over-long claws that dug into the soil around it. “What is it, to you?” His voice, a lighter baritone than the goliath’s, surprisingly held no animosity or condescension in the question. Just a burning curiosity.
beauty in darkness
kaos in light
kaos in light
@Volterra
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
