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+--- Thread: [FIN] Befriend a Childkiller [PRP Antaeus] (/thread-758.html)
Befriend a Childkiller [PRP Antaeus] - Shatter - September 21, 2017
Ran from: May 02, 2015 - ?
Shatter did not so much sleep as she brushed the surface of it; floating, but never plunging. As she heard rustling outside her den, the Black Beast surfaced from her dreamless slumber as swiftly as a panther would rise to strike its prey, her predatory stare piercing through the darkness to observe the intruder. It was perhaps with some disappointment that she realized the trespasser was not an adult like she anticipated, but rather a small and unassuming child, carelessly loitering outside her claim. There was a possibility he wasn't even aware he was outside someone's den.
Most wolves added character to their den by furnishing them with vegetation, seashells, bedding for comfort; Shatter in particular found individuality in the macabre, countless bones of every variety littering the floor of her den, a bread-crumb trail of splinters and discarded bones leading to the collection of gruesome trophies stockpiled against the furthermost wall. Some were picked entirely clean, while others still had scraps of flesh and coagulated Nothing adhering to them. For all the wealth of sustenance that still beckoned from her abode, there were no flies converging on the decomposing matter. No ants. It was as if even Alteron's insectlife knew better than to enter.
Shatter languished atop the amassed bones like a dragon protecting its treasure; stirring, dislodging a femur belonging to some unknown specimen which clattered noisily to the floor. In such a situation, she may have preferred a... stealthier approach. She could still work with this.
Slit-shaped orange eyes seemed almost molten in the forest gloom as they flashed open, the Beast emerging just a hairsbreadth from the refuge of her den, enough for Antaeus to glimpse the black markings scything over compact muscles. Her nose twitched as she took in the child's scent, absorbing the stench of dormant ashes, burning wood; fire, crackling on the end of a tree branch. It was buried beneath the lingering putrescence of the forest, a trait intrinsic to most Alteronians she remembered, but most assuredly present. A memory was awoken - the image of a serpentine shape flickering through a flame then vanishing, like a shark surging to the surface of the ocean before sinking back into the darkest depths. Slowly, the edge of Shatter's lip curled in what could have been a mockery of a smile, unveiling the pristine point of her fangs.
"Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!"
"All the better to eat you up with."
And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up.
"Come here, boy," Shatter purred in a terrible simulacrum of maternal warmth, her invitation as much a deterrent as it was a summon.
It all depended on what Antaeus made of it. Perhaps curiosity, or childhood reassurances of invincibility, would win over self-preservation.
Most wolves added character to their den by furnishing them with vegetation, seashells, bedding for comfort; Shatter in particular found individuality in the macabre, countless bones of every variety littering the floor of her den, a bread-crumb trail of splinters and discarded bones leading to the collection of gruesome trophies stockpiled against the furthermost wall. Some were picked entirely clean, while others still had scraps of flesh and coagulated Nothing adhering to them. For all the wealth of sustenance that still beckoned from her abode, there were no flies converging on the decomposing matter. No ants. It was as if even Alteron's insectlife knew better than to enter.
Shatter languished atop the amassed bones like a dragon protecting its treasure; stirring, dislodging a femur belonging to some unknown specimen which clattered noisily to the floor. In such a situation, she may have preferred a... stealthier approach. She could still work with this.
Slit-shaped orange eyes seemed almost molten in the forest gloom as they flashed open, the Beast emerging just a hairsbreadth from the refuge of her den, enough for Antaeus to glimpse the black markings scything over compact muscles. Her nose twitched as she took in the child's scent, absorbing the stench of dormant ashes, burning wood; fire, crackling on the end of a tree branch. It was buried beneath the lingering putrescence of the forest, a trait intrinsic to most Alteronians she remembered, but most assuredly present. A memory was awoken - the image of a serpentine shape flickering through a flame then vanishing, like a shark surging to the surface of the ocean before sinking back into the darkest depths. Slowly, the edge of Shatter's lip curled in what could have been a mockery of a smile, unveiling the pristine point of her fangs.
"Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!"
"All the better to eat you up with."
And, saying these words, this wicked wolf fell upon Little Red Riding Hood, and ate her all up.
"Come here, boy," Shatter purred in a terrible simulacrum of maternal warmth, her invitation as much a deterrent as it was a summon.
It all depended on what Antaeus made of it. Perhaps curiosity, or childhood reassurances of invincibility, would win over self-preservation.