Macabre
Pet Name: Macabre
Owner: Apache
Theme / Type: Phantom Obsideon
Born: May 16, 2011
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Control
MisticPal Age: 4453 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 3 / 3
Strength: 3
Defense: 2
Speed: 1
Intellect: 3
Misticpower: 3
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: None
1. - Dried Up Cactus Drink
A magpie flies overhead. Northward.
North, I will head north.
I may be scorned here, but elsewhere I will be liberated through anonymity. They will have no reason not to trust me. I will be charming, friendly, I will encourage trustfulness.
And just when they begin to believe in me, when they dare to trust me with their deepest fears and greatest aspirations... I will strip them of their bones and leave them hanging up to dry.
Their blood will create rivers on the ground. Their bodies will foster mold and maggots and decay, and most of all, horror.
And they will never see it coming.
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"Aha, but do you really know who you are? I implore you, look inside yourself and see if you are as far away from darkness as you would like to believe."
ID No. 10M
Macabre; "suggesting the horror of death and decay; gruesome"
manipulative || intimidating || nefarious || calculating
"The Devourer"
Macabre is an eater of souls and an obsessor of death. He is captivated by blood, pain, and rot. He is a sadistic creature who is quite happy spending an unnecessary amount of time torturing his victims before he devours them.
But he is not without control. One of his favorite methods of choosing victims is to take on a persona and interact with them beforehand. He is not beyond forming false friendships and allies as a way to trick others into trusting him. He is traitorous and feels no sense of moral obligation. He is a master of manipulation and if he is found out by one, he will play his cards right to ensure that he has support from the majority, while casting any that speak against him in a bad light.
Macabre is adaptable and persevering. He takes great pride in finishing anything he starts, preferring to never leave any loose ends. He is orphaned, selfish, opportunistic, and above all, cruel.
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There is a thing
deep in the woods,
a thing, crouched and wounded,
that leaps fervently at the very thought of light.
There is a thing,
that weeps in the rain,
for sunlight will not bother to breathe
on that of which it cannot see.
Stuck in the bushes, branches like manacles,
there is a thing
who knows betrayal,
and waits solely for a passerby to liberate it from its pen.
It need not be a heavy gesture; weighty,
it might be the simplest of generosities,
the smallest of nods,
a single proof.
I am waiting, forever it seems,
for that thing to rise from its cage,
and display its manifold character,
but in its pitiful state it stays weakened, obscure.
There is a thing that sleeps in the shadows of animosity,
perpetual in its grief, bitterness, and heartache,
and thus paces, inevitably,
in a prison of its own design.
I am to wait
forever it seems.
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I crouch in the dark. Naught but an ethereal vision. I am unreal. I am dangerous, malicious, devouring. I am, myself, the darkness that betrays the true nature of mortals.
And you, just there, homeward bound, so unaware of your fate. You walk so far into the darkness, you believe you are safe.
But you are not.
You approach. Long, confident steps.
I am silent, careful, watchful. You are loud, naive.
You are the dead walking.
There you are, so close. Too close. You were doomed from this very moment and onward. I sprung, vicious but composed. I grabbed you, by the arm and the throat and dragged you down to hell.
I look down upon you, you are shocked but cannot scream. I grin, and my white pinprick eyes gleam with pleasure.
I let go of all boundaries. I begin to tear you apart. Your flesh rips easily. It does not take long to do my job.
You are weak and close to death, but still pleas touch my nonchalant ears; they bring a grin to my lips. But I am relentless.
Just fodder for my soul: I am a consumer, a devourer.
It was an unlucky thing for you, madam, to have caught my eye with your ignorance.
Perhaps, in time, you will amend your impetuous nature. Perhaps, but time is short.
Unfortunate; it is a pity our tirade should come to a close so soon.
I bark a laugh with audacious abandon, this is my specialty. I am truly alive now, inflicting mercilessly my will upon the meek. You could not ever have escaped. I see regret swim through your eyes, and this of all things makes me hate you even more.
If one were to ask, however, I would say that the greatest pleasure I derive from the experience would be from the moment of unveiling; it is a great thing to expose the truth of myself, even if only temporarily.
It is a painful thing, too, I realize, to see the look of horror cross one's face as they see my face.
But I staunch my self-pity as your delirious begging melts to murmurs. My spirits are revived immediately by the sight of your eyes dimming.
"Shush darling," I whisper. "It won't be long now."
The moonlight transforms your crimson blood to silver. For a moment there is absolute stillness. It is as if you and I have been captured in a photo.
But then my fangs sink down, one last time, and you are consumed.
Your soul is mine from now unto eternity.
~
Macabre belongs to Apache.
Boxed Phantom on 10/25/12!
[Created as a Riverside Gourix]
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