Petrol
Pet Name: Petrol
Owner: Apache
Theme / Type: Lanturn Tarinooki
Born: July 23, 2013
Gender: Female
MisticPal Name: Destruction
MisticPal Age: 3951 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 12 / 12
Strength: 16
Defense: 0
Speed: 16
Intellect: 16
Misticpower: 1
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
They won't stop talking about you, you know.
Oh, don't get me wrong, they're not impressed. They think you're ugly. You don't have talent. They think you aren't good for anything. You're selfish and stupid. They want you to be embarrassed. They think you deserve to lose. In fact, they're betting on it. They want to see you fail. They'll be happy when you do.
They say that you are worthless.
But I don't believe them.
Come, come with me. I can help you reach your true potential. Come, come away from those naysayers, they are wrong. They don't know you... not like I know you.
Come with me.
I will help you.
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"What a fine specimen you are. You will look great, once you have been hung on my wall."
ID No. 16F
Petrol; "a liquid obtained from petroleum, used especially as fuel; gasoline"
sadistic || violent || unorthodox || persuasive
"The Puppet Master"
Petrol is dangerous. Do not let her tempt you. Do not let her control you. She uses people like puppets, as a means to an end. She's only adept in one kind of magic, and though it is not mind control exactly, it is very similar. She is convincing. People trust her. They "understand" her. You see, as Petrol would put it, people are more open to suggestion than one might at first realize. She sees the holes in people's minds, the cracks in their armor, and she seizes at them with both hands. She knows what validations they seek and how to exploit them.
She has taken on the role of a leader. She has gathered a following and "teaches" them. She isolates them. She corrupts them. She manipulates them. They may think their actions are guided by their own desires, but in reality they are doing her bidding. This sort of arrangement could be aptly called a cult.
Petrol often seeks peace and quiet. She pursues this with her hobby, butterfly collecting. She has quite the display of brilliantly colored species, all pinned and dead and hung on her walls in fine glass cases.
Petrol has one great vice, one weakness, one insatiable desire. She loves to watch things burn.
Preferably, those things that are alive.
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In the firelight the moon reflects
a mirrored image in the wake
of tall tales and crooked ways and
pale waves of satisfaction,
like a boat sailing lapping seas
or butterflies drifting uselessly
from one flower to the next.
Fragile skins pierced by
black thoughts and iron bars and
skinny fingers caress us
tease us and reprimand us
in the reflection of the
firelight.
Gritty fingernails peeled and yellow
touch the edge of the world
scraping incoherently the idea of
fear and destitute wonderment,
we
are the ones who leap
from the cliff to the moon
all in the
fiery, opaque,
we see through it all,
we are not conned.
We see
the moon through the firelight,
and freedom, and the purity
in dark ash,
scattered aimlessly by the wind.
-----------~-~-~----------~~-~-~-~~----------~-~-~-----------
I can't help it. I don't know why, but I get the feeling I can do anything when she is near. I would follow her to the ends of the earth if I could. She is... perfect.
She paced, draped in a dark cape, arms clad in striped cloth up to her elbows, her head adorned with a pumpkin helm. The grin it cast upon her jaws made her look savage. But then again, that was the intention. She wanted to appear dangerous. She wanted to appear savage. She had a reputation to live up to.
Beneath her savagery he could see grace. Beneath her rage, intelligence. Beneath her chaos there was order, and drive, and purpose.
He knew that she was not dangerous, not really.
She would never hurt him.
I know her better than she knows herself.
She caught him staring and grinned, eyes narrow and predatory. Her posture was rigid, she looked stern and imposing, but he knew her. He knew.
"Let's get going, the ceremony of a life time awaits."
She winked, spun, and walked out the cabin. Her ash gray cape twirled and danced at the movement, before being pulled away, dragged by her shoulders and forced to follow in her footsteps. The action was strangely mesmerizing.
Like a dog on a leash.
He shoved the intrusive thought away, ignoring it. He was used to having second thoughts. It was no trouble pushing them aside now.
He felt flushed and wild. For a moment he stood, watching her shape shrink with distance as she wandered deep, deep out into the woods.
One thought clouded his mind, enveloping him in a soft magenta haze. His shoulders were heavy and his legs numbed. He could not see straight and was not aware of how long he had been standing. When he came to, he realized she was long gone, and swiftly dragged on his heavy black cloak and trotted after her.
The words that froze him in his tracks in the doorway to the little, leaning shack, they thrummed in his head, ever-present and comforting. They swaddled him like a babe, fighting off the frost of the quickening night.
They smothered him, and he fought for breath.
I love her.
I love her.
---
It took him a while, but despite the dark he knew the paths well. He was strangely tired, and after his initial run, walked languidly and without stress. He was not essential to this particular gathering, and would arrive in his own time.
As it happened the ceremony was well underway when he did finally show. There were not a great many. This gathering was to be more intimate; only the most trusted and most promising of their fellowship had been allowed to attend.
In the middle of the clearing raged a huge bonfire. It crackled and spat and rose, higher and higher into the night. It's warmth, though ferocious and oppressive, was welcome. It was a cold night and he had gotten quite chilled walking there.
"Ah, and the last of our company has deigned us with his presence," her words rang out, like a gong being struck, announcing him and enveloping him in the same red-pink haze. He relaxed, unusual and intense in his happiness. He jutted his shoulders out with pride and walked with surety towards her.
But something was wrong. He was walking towards the fire.
Into the fire.
His steps faltered. His boots were charring at the edge of the pit.
"Come, my dearest friend, and meet your destiny." Her words were cool, they washed over him like wind and soothed his burning skin.
But he was confused. The haze took over his mind. What was he doing? He could barely think, his head was so heavy, and it pulsed, with pain and pressure. There were words there, but they were not said aloud. Yet they were so loud he could hear nothing else.
I love her. I love her. I love her.
He looked around. His comrades like sentinels, stood made of shadow, still, yet dancing, and lifeless. They looked so dead with how still they were, standing in a semi-circle at the edges of the clearing behind him.
Watching him, waiting, with baited breath and black, empty, soulless eyes.
But he could not see them anymore. All he could feel was the heat, taking him over, eating him, snuffing out his life. There was only a red-orange, as far as the eye could see, and hot black coals and cooking branches beneath his melting boots.
I love her. She will take care of me. She will watch over me, forever, and ever and ever and ever.
And I feel her love. Oh, how she loves me. How she took care of me. She showed me mercy when no one else would.
He felt himself coming apart at the seams as he fell, thoughts tumbling out into wordless screams. He crumpled to the ground, dying, and soon was to be nothing but ash.
To his last coherent thought he chanted.
I love you. I love you.
~
Petrol belongs to Apache.
Boxed Lanturn on 7/22/13!
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