The Portal
03-03-2018, 09:54 AM
Was that—
—power—
—a scent, a feeling, ripping through him like a hook, lodging somewhere in his flesh; painful and tugging, insistent and sweet, adrenaline and endorphins. Like an expectant hound he stiffened, though his nostrils worked.
Powerpowerpower—
Raw, pure. Untainted. Alive. His jaws opened, his pulse quickened, thirst and greed and need combining to whisper killkillkill; consume and devour, rip every shred of magic from its bones. His teeth ached with the thought of it, a quiver of anticipation running down his double spine.
(No, he thinks, somewhere in the back of his warped mind.)
He wanted it. He craved it.
But you can't have it that voice said again, a reminder of what he was doing, a shove back into the confines of his own skull. You are not them. His body twisted within itself; was it just his imagination, or was his form more stable these days..?
He filed it away for later consideration. What mattered now was telling the ghosts of four power-hungry, slavering gods that they would not get to devour this tree.
Fuck but what if they were important? What if they were part of what kept the Rift grounded, going? How were they made? Did they grow like saplings? Could he plant a garden of them?
Letting out a deep, shuddering breath, the tall, dark creature slipped around both the gathering and the tree, his entire being on fire (figuratively) and his brain doing static as he skirted close to it. He shuddered with suppressed need as he situated himself between the frightened tree and the core of the Portal.
—power—
—a scent, a feeling, ripping through him like a hook, lodging somewhere in his flesh; painful and tugging, insistent and sweet, adrenaline and endorphins. Like an expectant hound he stiffened, though his nostrils worked.
Powerpowerpower—
Raw, pure. Untainted. Alive. His jaws opened, his pulse quickened, thirst and greed and need combining to whisper killkillkill; consume and devour, rip every shred of magic from its bones. His teeth ached with the thought of it, a quiver of anticipation running down his double spine.
(No, he thinks, somewhere in the back of his warped mind.)
He wanted it. He craved it.
But you can't have it that voice said again, a reminder of what he was doing, a shove back into the confines of his own skull. You are not them. His body twisted within itself; was it just his imagination, or was his form more stable these days..?
He filed it away for later consideration. What mattered now was telling the ghosts of four power-hungry, slavering gods that they would not get to devour this tree.
Fuck but what if they were important? What if they were part of what kept the Rift grounded, going? How were they made? Did they grow like saplings? Could he plant a garden of them?
Letting out a deep, shuddering breath, the tall, dark creature slipped around both the gathering and the tree, his entire being on fire (figuratively) and his brain doing static as he skirted close to it. He shuddered with suppressed need as he situated himself between the frightened tree and the core of the Portal.
beauty in darkness
kaos in light
kaos in light
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
