cost you to keep me quiet
They were full of themselves, these treasure hunters. Each one believed himself worthier than the last for the Gods’ grace. They had nothing but blind devotion to give in return for all of the Gods many favors and thought that was enough to satisfy beings of supreme power. The gods who make the sun set and rise again, the gods who make mountains rise and oceans fill up with the only life source that gives the mortals their lives. Oh, he envied the Gods! He would make the masses do more than worship him if he were given a throne among the heavens. He would enslave them, make them build monuments and sacrifice their young. Make them prove their worth, not simply sit idle and toss gifts unto their ungrateful realm every now and again.
Gods deserved their bone-rattling fear more than love.
But only the mortal who was most undeserving to be one would believe that. Vincent had a wicked vantage on every philosophical item. It was unclear what made him that way, as it certainly wasn’t dying and living again. He was blind to the sheer amount of love it had taken a God to give him a second chance in life. But surely there was a reason to it. He thought so. Something awaited him on the horizon, a turn of luck reaching for him as he reached for it. He was destined for great, and likely horrible, things.
For now, he was simply mortal and shambling after a fabled relic. This had to be the precipice of the dredges, the moment just before he crossed on to something higher. Only time stood in his way.
And a mare.
His sharp eyes caught her emerging from the forest before him, the familiar signs of shock worn like a cloak over her magnificent body. What a fortunate turn of events this was. Vince certainly appreciated female companionship as much as any brute, it was just a shame that the ladies never reciprocated the feeling.
Two sets of eyes were affixed on his figure, both clear-water blue and entranced by whatever crippling emotion had overtaken her. Shock—certainly. Fear—most likely. Curiosity—oh there was surely some of it there or else her adrenaline would have kicked in by now to steal her away from his view. She seemed quite the feral thing herself, clean and preened to perfection perhaps, but beastly nonetheless. And a beast of a much different kind than he ever seen before, that was certain. At first, he mimicked the dance of her eyes—his own glossing over every inch of her, trying to decide exactly what it was that he was in the presence of.
Suddenly, the poor thing was fumbling through a flurry of words, one thought chasing another as they spilled in to his crooked ears. She seemed so very nervous, which only delighted Vincent. He waited patiently, listening to the melody of her rambling all the while deciding just what to do about her. The chatter told him much about her; some he could have guessed by her appearance—she certainly looked much better suited for water so hearing her talk of the ocean did not surprise him. She had fins that leapt up between her marble white horns and trailed down her spine in to a delicate tailfin. What a curious little creature she was! And so delightfully pure and sweet. His favorite kind.
When she finished, either because she ran out of thoughts or out of breath, he took a step toward her—head low and his footfall slow and gentle, so as not to alarm her. Then, quite effortlessly, he fell in to a character that pleased him greatly to play. “Oh now, don’t be nervous, precious.” Vince cooed at her, his vocals smooth and as deep as the chasm of his conscience. “I am no such thing as a ‘zombie’, merely a poor fool who has been sadly mistreated by the world. I couldn’t harm a mouse, let alone eat the flesh of a beautiful creature such as yourself.” There was some truth to that; for even Vince, cannibalism would have to be a new low He did find it rather thrilling to tear in to another’s flesh, however, if only for the guttural shrieking that it caused.
But not hers. There was something quite decadent about her ivory skin, like a virgin snow in the moonlight. And with an innocence like hers, he thought her mind would be a much better toy with which to delight in. “I fear I’m not long for this world, sweet Bel. Would it be alright if I called you that?” He stole another step in her direction, where he caught her heavenly scent as he inhaled. Day in and day out, he only inhaled the scent of death. She was quite literally a breath of fresh air.
His gaze pressed in to hers, hungry for help. “I surmise only the relic can save me now.” He added with feigned weakness in his shaking voice, pleading for her to buy his lies.
@Below Zero | ooc // BEL. IS. A. DOLL!
@Random Events
