Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
To the surprise of no one – she attempted escape.
He’d been anticipating something; once the children were gone, once they were safe – but with her sword in safekeeping, out of her hands, it meant more opportunity for him.
So the Reaper followed.
On the crashing of glass, on the movement of human instinct, she threaded her way towards the forest, but so did he – transformed, shifting, eagle plumes and feathers, extended wings, voracious, raptorial prowess and keen senses unfurled, unleashed. He’d chased and hunted prey for lifetimes, no different now, not with her compliance, her tolerance, gone. So was his – predilections and Machiavellian vibes scorching, diving on his plummeting motions, on his speed, on his years spent stalking those who would dare to harm his kin. It was a treacherous rasp along his throat, a silent endeavor, a crooning murmur of irreverence and sedition, two capable of playing the revolutionary game. He was a ghost on the horizon, finessed forbidding, unwinding motions of rampant decadence, treacherous considerations contorted in the tilt of his avian head, in the following of her rushed, haphazard maelstrom.
Then the monolith dove, a pinnacle of reticent rapiers, hushed chords of unsung violence, intending to land upon her, shifting his form back to human; brawn and bulk and hands reaching. He said nothing, silent and steady and armed with more than just weapons - with no sign at all, minatory, eldritch invocations uncoiled from his presence – life draining machinations pulsing, pervading, brewing towards her form, intending to render her weakened.
He’d been anticipating something; once the children were gone, once they were safe – but with her sword in safekeeping, out of her hands, it meant more opportunity for him.
So the Reaper followed.
On the crashing of glass, on the movement of human instinct, she threaded her way towards the forest, but so did he – transformed, shifting, eagle plumes and feathers, extended wings, voracious, raptorial prowess and keen senses unfurled, unleashed. He’d chased and hunted prey for lifetimes, no different now, not with her compliance, her tolerance, gone. So was his – predilections and Machiavellian vibes scorching, diving on his plummeting motions, on his speed, on his years spent stalking those who would dare to harm his kin. It was a treacherous rasp along his throat, a silent endeavor, a crooning murmur of irreverence and sedition, two capable of playing the revolutionary game. He was a ghost on the horizon, finessed forbidding, unwinding motions of rampant decadence, treacherous considerations contorted in the tilt of his avian head, in the following of her rushed, haphazard maelstrom.
Then the monolith dove, a pinnacle of reticent rapiers, hushed chords of unsung violence, intending to land upon her, shifting his form back to human; brawn and bulk and hands reaching. He said nothing, silent and steady and armed with more than just weapons - with no sign at all, minatory, eldritch invocations uncoiled from his presence – life draining machinations pulsing, pervading, brewing towards her form, intending to render her weakened.
DEIMOS
