South

The southern part of the city has a chic family-oriented sort of charm to it. Here, small locally owned shops run rampant, neighbors often know each other by name, and the monthly socials are an event not to be missed. In the South, children can often be seen safely playing in the park or on sidewalks and in the weekends, families often take to the beach to enjoy the warm waters surrounding the city.

What You'll Find Here

Ascension Center of Equitation
Hyde Park
Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium
The Outskirts
The University of Sacrosanct

welcome to the end; open


Posted on January 12, 2015 by KINGSLAY
South
KINGSLAY

They should feel him coming.

Their flesh should raise and prickle along the ridges of their spines and the backs of their necks. There should be chills that roll beneath the flesh and above the muscle, like earthworms that burrow through dirt. They should know. They should feel his breath hot on their skin when the darkness settles like dust. They are animals, after all â€" like him, full of instincts that devour them, make them run like well-oiled machines.

They are animals, and animals always know.

But his arrival goes mostly unnoticed. It won't stay that way for long. It never does. Perhaps they won't see at first, but one by one they'll begin to disappear. One by one they'll fade from each other's peripherals. Sometimes there are broadcasts. Sometimes they'll speak amongst themselves with fires and the glint of steel (of pitchforks) that shine in the dark galaxies of their eyes, and they'll tell each other to be careful, to watch for things like him.

They never catch him though.

He is as much a shadow as the shadows themselves. He has existed in the hollows of the earth. He has existed in holes, and cracks, and crevices. He thinks like an animal, because he is one, because he is more instinct and lust than being.

They are too human.
They are too wide-eyed and fearful to understand why his eyes are glass and his soul is emptied out.

Once he was wide-eyed, too, left quaking on the shore of a river that ran red with her blood. He drank in the carnage, red as wine, and it stained him all the way down â€" past his lips and tongue, past the flesh into the bone, it replaced the marrow with the gore. What choice did he have but this? What choice did he have but to replace the fondness that a child has for it's mother with the fondness of her blood warm on his skin?

And when that runs dry, anything else.

It is a natural evolution; he is made of magic and carnage, of blood and gore. He is made of death, and the shrieks of witches, of shadows and entrails and slaughter. Why does he take life? He steals it from others because his was stolen once, too â€" because when he was wide-eyed and quaking, he was left along the river that ran red with her blood.


And so, he made the Gods themselves bend at the knee.

KINGSLAY BY NEVAEH | HTML BY MAAT | IMAGE (C) ILYA KISARADOV

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