Rainforest Cliffs
08-27-2017, 10:08 PM
My heart's an artifice, a decoy soul
Who knew the emptiness could be so cold?
I've lost the parts of me that make me whole
I am the darkness, I'm a monster
Who knew the emptiness could be so cold?
I've lost the parts of me that make me whole
I am the darkness, I'm a monster
His teeth have an immediate, deleterious effect on the Walker. Its shriek fills the ethereal darkness all around them, sonorous and surely reaching every destitute corner of the Rift and all those unfortunate enough to inhabit it. Dark ears lie flat against his head in a futile attempt to block it out, yet still the jaguar’s might is unwavering, and briefly Kratos is aware of the mare’s promise not to leave him as well as her assistance in bringing an end to the menacing creature that is the fuel of nightmares.
As the crimson-backed mare manages to run her horn through the heart of the beast and ultimate brings it to its demise, the jaguar’s coat illuminates brightly as its soul is torn away from this world. And then, something strange begins to happen. It’s impossible to see, the blackened smog that emits from the Walker and seeks to purge the memories of any close enough to be caught in it. Before Kratos can consciously release the now still Walker from his unyielding grip, the smoke wafts all around him and snakes through his nostrils and down into his throat, initiating a deep, rattling cough as it begins to take its hold. Staggering backwards, he shakes his head as though it is something he can simply shake away like a cobweb or a persistent insect, but he would not be so lucky.
Helovia, Jaeger, Persephone – even what had just happened, the memories are all unjustly robbed from him. For a moment he grows still where he stands, looking on at the mare, at his savior if one would be so bold to say it, with a fleeting look of confusion. And then, it’s as though a switch is flipped – the Estanzian Prince is gone, and only the predator is home.
The low, rumbling growl that forms deep in the back of his throat is a portent to death, the look in his eyes no longer innocent with confusion but tainted now with the desire to chase, to taste the mare’s blood on his tongue.
His lips draw back, crinkling the velveteen, whiskered skin to reveal long canine teeth, and without another moment of warning, he leaps forward with claws outstretched towards what was now his prey.
"Talking talk here."
ooc - Well this isn't going the way I had expected it to! x'D Thanks, RP!
