Beastly; Brutal

GENERAL. this account is private, selective, & very low activity; I work a full-time job & my hours increase as the holidays come in, meaning less free time going into the winter. blog primarily runs off a queue for replies, and I’m generally not reachable during the morning. 

IMPORTANT. Please read rules before interacting. There are violent and disturbing themes on this blog due to the nature of the novel the muse comes from; blanket warning for gore, death, and body horror.

It is good, in that moment, that he seems unable to speak, caught in his own head and response to her utter lack of one. Language fails her, a moment, eyes gone distant, unfocused- lost, for a moment, a span of too few heartbeats and too many, where words are broken glass and she can’t grasp them. 

Still, she comes back to herself- looks to him. “I am far older than you can probably imagine, looking at me, at me, at me,” Amused, though her voice now, as cracked as her eyes appear in the moment. A grimace, and she shrugs it off. “There are so many ways, you know, to survive this world of men, even if the truth of you terrifies them.” 

 A shrug, and she takes a step back, but then holds out a re-gloved hand to him, head tilting to one side. 

“Come on, then. I think I’ve had enough of shadows for one night. And you as well, I would wager, would wager, would wager.”

the offered hand, so much greater than it seems; a gesture & an act of salvation unexpected. he stares at the offered limb for long moments uncomprehending before his own massive hand reaches out to graze the other’s palm, jerking back in fright that it might be retracted. another moment, & then he gently grasps he fingers with his own - not a full hand hold, but something easily escaped should her mind readjust & she choose to rescind her presence from him.

heavy, his stolen heart beats in his chest, throat swallowing breathlessly. words choke him but he musters on. something must be said to this act.

“T-thank you.” what else could be given for this? what else was he to offer? in a moment the world turns & pauses & everything is now tilted from before. there is hope & the promise of light & something more than screams in the dark. more than loneliness. more than fear. “Thank you.”

        unaffected  is  not  the  correct  word,    not  entirely,  &  he  knows  it.  it  is  only  human  nature,  to  look  upon  something  out  of  the  ordinary  &  be  confused,  the  natural  cruelty  of  the  mind.  but  neither  is  horrific  correct,  for  he  feels  no  fear,  is  not  sickened  by  the  simple  strangeness  of  another’s  visage  ———  so  his  head  comes  to  but  a  curious  tilt,  eyes  still  regarding  the  tall  figure  before  him,  inspecting.  

        ❛  i  can  see.  ❜      he  speaks  plainly,  eyes  darting  across  features  as  if  to  prove  his  point,  &  he  takes  another  cautious  step  forward;  further  into  the  light,  squinting  as  his  neck  strains  upwards  to  see.      ❛  and  i  have  seen  scarier  things.  i  suppose  i  am  a  horrific  sort  of  child  ———  i  am  barely  a  child  at  all,  but  that  is  a  troubling  subject  for  another  time.  ❜

        but  where  to  go  from  here  ?  giovanni  feels  no  hatred  nor  disgust  for  the  man  before  him;  if  anything,  there  is  a  sense  of  pity  over  the  manner  in  which  he  speaks  of  himself.  it  contradicts  ———  this  stranger  refers  to  himself  like  a  monster,  a  horror  meant  to  plague  giovanni’s  very  soul,  &  yet;  the  warnings,  the  concern  for  that  very  matter,  protecting  from  perceived  terror.  perhaps  he’s  just  …  kind.      ❛  have  you  a  name  ?  ❜      giovanni  speaks  again  at  last,  childish  tone  swapped  out  for  something  softer,      ❛  mine  is  giovanni.  ❜

so something of this child was unnatural as he was, though perhaps in manners completely separate. indeed, the creature had been most vigilante to his creator’s actions - & thus was sure there were no others of his own make roaming the world as a result.so then what sort of horror did this boy (Giovani) have claim to call himself?

the curiosity grew & only exacerbated the urge to keep. 

perhaps that had been where Victor had truly gone wrong with his new race of beings; not entirely in the construction, but in that which he failed to give. it seemed that when he had conceived his magnum opus it had not occurred to introduce inhibition to it, or perhaps better put, reason. for what reason was there to be found it this maddening urge to crush the other to him and flee into the night - keeping this newfound feeling of warmth with him when surely it would be unwelcome & only bring the beast more woe in the end?

Victor has never known fear like this.

As he stares upon the foul being to which he has given life, an overwhelming disgust fills his heart, one so powerful that he wants nothing more but to run away. He recoils instinctively, falling onto the floor and scrambling backwards, doing everything he can do get away from that - that wretched thing.

Why did he give life to it? Why didn’t he realize what an atrocity he was creating?

He can’t escape. There’s no way out of the room. And at that realization, Victor feels an awful panic well up inside him, clawing at him relentlessly. He feels like he’s about to be sick.

“S-stay away!” he yells, his voice high and loud in pitch. “Get away from me, you monster!!”

unproven legs prove to uncoordinated to keep massive bulk aloft long & the creature topples in a slow fall, landing in a sitting position with the grace of a drunken bull, before staring dumbly around the room & again settling on the figure now crawling backwards & away. there is no understanding still but the sight of the man brings happiness bubbling up - as it does in any babe looking upon their parent. risen creature let’s out another gurgling whine, stitched together face splitting into a wide smile, displaying the perfect teeth Victor had each so carefully placed.

 the thing does not move from where it sits upon the floor, legs awkwardly akimbo, but still long arms reach out & grab at the air towards the other, mindless blabbering still falling from thin & waxy lips. the yelling is foreign, registering as nothing more than additional sound instead of intended threat or pleading.

There is near to no reaction from her, as she looks upon him, head tilting only slightly to one side. “If you should not exist, then I wonder at many things. Necromancy was once a revered art, I will have you know, and I have seen them do far more dire things than bringing life to a creation, to a creation, to a creation.” Her brows raise, just a little, and she sets her hands to her hips, unbothered. 

There is a certain degree of arrogance to how she stands as she watches him- and as he speaks of defiance she smiles, too-sharp savage teeth glinting in the low light. “To defy the causes of men and gods is a cause that I can support.” She who has defied everything that she has ever known, she who turned her back on the order of divinity to come and live and work and play amongst mortals and their ilk. 

“It does not if they do not count you as human, and if they have rejected you, they do not. You are something wholly new and your own, which would terrify lesser men. I am not lesser. I am divinity gone to flesh, and there is nothing of you that frightens me.” Her head cocks again, similar to a bird’s. Glowing yellow meets mirrored silver, cracks through the irises like broken glass. “So make that what you are; more than they and something wholly different, though you came from their blood and bone.”

eyes raise to fully look upon the other, disconcerted totally by the lack of anger. of outrage. so used to such reactions is he that the loss leaves him adrift & unsure how to cope. how does one live with kindness? or at least, the lack of animosity?

“Your words hold wisdom far greater in age than you appear to own; I will keep them in mind, though for some of your claims...I have else heard other claim divinity & find only ruin in such. Forgive me my doubt but-” words cut short as he continues to watch the other in stunned awe, unable to find words for whatever new emotion now kindles in the hearth of his chest. 

-----

foul form wanders near city outskirts, body of stolen flesh given life by some unknown benefactor & left to wander in the aftermath of his horrific birth. though limbs & features are in perfect symmetry, he is crafted from disparate parts & thus the final whole is an abomination to look upon; already several traveling to & from the city had fled in terror at the sight but with no knowledge the creature knew not what the screams meant.

only the dark & the dismal loneliness & the irresistible calling that drove him forward.

-----

dark form lumbers through the dark & the rain, unflinching in the face of the elements, focused instead on the lights of the town the creature dragged itself through & the canyon walls ensconcing it. it has little awareness but that it is hungry & tired & that the pelting rain is a nuisance it cannot put an end to. still, it is ever drawn to the flickering lights speckling the path ahead & that light up the small, seemingly desolate village like tiny burning stars in the dark.

it has no purpose but to escape the downpour & no knowledge of what it is or its origin.

hunger. cold. light that glittered like jewels. want, need, one emaciated foot before the next.

----

he has scaled the sheer cliffs & unassailable mountains of this remote area on a wish to flee humanity. to be outside of it’s purview once & for all after facing nothing but the cruelty of mankind since creation. there was only so much rejection even an ill-gained heart could take, the creature was sure of it, & it would be better to find solace in the desolation of sheer peaks than to face anymore of the lonely reality offered by the wider world.

& so it is in complete surprise that he stumbles across the keep, storm raging overhead & illuminating the night sky in great flashes of light. each sending sharp relief across the architecture & creating clawing hands and demonic forms in the shadows cast. it seemed ancient even among the desolation of the mountain range he had been scaling.

but it would be shelter. 

        briefly,  in  this  moment  of  listening,    giovanni  wishes  the  dark  of  the  world  had  been  hidden  from  his  eyes.  but  he  was  not  spared,  not  even  as  a  child;  was  dragged  from  the  comforts  of  living  &  into  the  dark  woods,  with  a  curse  placed  upon  his  head,  the  memory  of  his  father’s  weeping  burned  into  his  memory,  playing  each  night  while  he  sleeps.  he  has  seen  death,  sat  within  its  grips  &  woke  the  next  morning  to  carry  on.

        thus  fear  comes  slow  to  him,  if  it  comes  at  all;  forward  he  steps,  eyes  fixated  on  the  figure  before  him,  &  soon  enough  he  sees  ———  troubling,  different,  not  what  one  expects  when  apparently  hunting  down  a  person.  

        but  it  does  not  frighten.  it  unsettles  the  youthful  part  of  his  brain,  if  only  for  a  moment,  causes  thought  to  stutter  as  he  stares  ———  but  soon  enough,  agape  mouth  is  closed,  &  sense  returns  to  him.      ❛  my  goodness.  ❜      perhaps  not  a  good  way  to  start,  but  they  are  the  first  words  to  come  to  mind.      ❛  well  ——  here  we  are.  and  here  you  are;  i  am  not  weeping  or  fainting  in  fear,  am  i  ?  nor  have  i  taken  ill  …  hello.  ❜

he is unsure what to do at this juncture, so unexpected is the outcome of his reveal. never had another looked upon him without horror or dismay. so wholly unfamiliar is the reaction that he finds he can do little but stare upon the teen (the child that had so unwisely chased him down) in awe.

how is it that wonder can be spun from an event meant to be tragic? from one so dire?

“You are truly unaffected? Have you not the ability to see?” for in no reality could he fathom this outcome having been the result of another coming across him in the wood, so foreign was it to his experiences. certainly the child must be ill in some way, addled of the mind. “What manor of child are you to look upon the horrific and be so without effect?”