#snakegrim

I have now almost 100 sketches of warhammer characters (yup, I clearly have a problem). I need to go through the pile or I'll go mad.

The primarch rolled around in restless frustration, his serpent’s tail coiling and uncoiling itself in swirling patterns. Hands were upon him, caressing and fondling flesh, scales, whatever they could touch. He ignored them. They could not remedy the malady plaguing his very thoughts.

YOU.

Clever you were with your trinkets that kept him out. You had been his muse as of late. His delicate, little plaything who’d come so close to succumbing to his desires. He seethed with anger, knowing how close he had been to taking you. You had been right there! Right within his grasp. He had felt your warmth, tasted your flesh, and heard your sweet pleas for mercy. You had him salivating, the sensations you gifted him a delicacy to his senses.

Your fear would have turned to devotion the moment he sank his teeth in you, and you would have tasted all the sweeter for it. And yet you’d escaped. 

He could no longer reach you. It was as though a door had been closed between you, cutting him off from your soul. He could see light shine between the cracks, but should he try the handle, the door would not budge. Only you had the key, and he didn’t like being shut out.

Fulgrim gave a frustrated hiss as he rolled onto his back, his hair spilled out around him in a halo of platinum. The purple of his eyes stared blankly at gossamer light curtains falling down around him. Smooth skin, faceless beings sought to climb up his body. Their grinding and bucking hips were simply an annoyance. Fulgrim swats them away with another restless and frustrated turn of his serpentine body. They tumble down his dais, sighing; pawing at the air as if they might once again reach him. Their sounds would have once been like music to his ears, but even their melody could not tempter his thoughts.

“She thinks she can elude me. If my darling continues to refuse my summons, then I’ve no choice but to deliver my invitation in person.” He had other methods of reaching his wife. His painting was but one piece of the puzzle. He smiled at himself, knowing all too well the loyal servants of chaos chanting his name in the bowls of your city.

You would not escape him. Not this time.

⸻

You ended your day as you had done for the past few months, knelt at your nanny’s bed with a well-worn pamphlet in your hand. The printed words having long since faded and, with a careful hand, been penned anew. Even so, you no longer need the words to be legible. You had them memorized, reciting them with your head bowed and eyes closed. As you spoke the words, a feeling of warmth filled the room. It swelled outward from your body, creating a bubble around you. It was your light in the darkness and the one thing with which kept your nightmares at bay. 

“The Emperor protects.” You finish right as the faint sound of laughter trickles under your door. Casting it a curious glance, you tuck your pamphlet inside of your robe and fetch a palm sized Aquila from under your pillow; the metal of it is weighty in your hand. You were not expecting company.

“Hello?” You open the door and stop as a feeling of dread comes over you. Beyond the frame, the air is thick and nearly tangible. You reach out with your hand and feel the chill seep through your defenses. Burying in your skin.

You jerk your hand back and stare out into the darkness of the hallway. You listen long and hard, clutching your eagle to your chest. More laughter fills the air, louder than before and numerous. 

You take a hesitant step outside. The chill envelops you, clawing at your shield and pouring through the cracks in your defenses. You steel yourself and reinforce your barrier with words of praise to the Emperor; his divinity, your shield from the darkness. 

“Is someone there?” The door slams shut behind you, and you jump with nerves on edge. You turn on your heel and try for the handle, tugging hard. It doesn’t budge.

“No, no. Please. Open up.” You beg of it. You wanted to go back inside, to feel safe within the wards you'd put in place. You could feel your concentration slip, the protective barrier around you flickering in and out with each panicked breath,

“Why so frightened?” A voice giggled in your ear. You freeze in place, too terrified to face it.

A smooth face with no eyes and two slits for a nose twisted around to greet you; their lips taunt over a bladed smile. A curved, claw-like appendage hooks you around your middle dragging you closer to the creature. They did not seem to like you ignoring them.

“You are not real, daemon. You have no power here!” The daemonette tilts their head in idle curiosity. It's face twisted into a beautifully twisted caricature.

“Is that so?” They ask, blowing a puff of air into your face through their nostrils. You cringe away from it, the sickeningly sweet scent a blight to your senses.

Before you can react further, you feel the hall swim around you. Your legs feel heavy, like you’re trying to walk through waist deep mud. You titter on your feet and collapse. The daemon lets you fall, hooking its claw in the neck of your gown. They watch you squirm on the ground with heavy limbs before dragging down the hall. You don’t fight it, even as the rug beneath your bare legs starts to burn. 

You’re taken to your home’s ballroom, the inside only recognizable by the familiar tables and chairs scattered along the edges. The haze at the edges of your vision clears enough for you to see the horror that was your staff hung on pillars of white marble by golden hooks and chains. Blood seeps down the marble, pooling onto the floor below.

Unfamiliar robbed figures litter the floor, their bodies a crumbled mess of blood and cloth. As you’re dragged inside, you get a good look at one of the men. His face was still intact, blood oozing from his eye sockets. Symbols were carved into his dead, smiling face. One of which looked like that of a serpent.

At the very center of the room, your nanny dangled limply in the arms of a gigantic, snake-like creature with multiple arms and recognizable scales. He was like a nightmare come to life. His smile was soft as he looked down on you with false pity in his eyes.

“My sweet, darling wife. How I have missed you.” He dropped his prey with a sickening crack as he opened his arms wide with welcome for you. You squirm beneath your captor, mortified to feel your gown tearing along the serrated edge of their claw.

“You’ve kept me waiting for so long, pet. Come now, don’t fight it. We both know what you desire. I could show you unspeakable pleasure. Open your senses to those beyond your wildest dreams.” He slithers toward you. The masked faces of daemons surround you, cutting off your escape routes. They giggle and jeer, one’s jaw drips with golden spit as another twits and contorts its body in bizarre, bone altering shapes.

“May I have this dance?” He extends a hand toward you. For a moment you see your husband clad in purple and gold, his smile beautiful and sincere. He looks just as he did the night you were married. You reach toward him, your smaller hand sliding into his larger one. You hear the faint gurgling of a “ no , please ” somewhere in the distance as the aquila drops from your hand.

Fulgrim pulled you up from the floor with a jerk, breaking the illusion. You whimper in pain, pulling and kicking to escape him. He doesn’t seem at all bothered, brushing off your attacks with a laugh. He lowers his face to your ear, his pink lips pulled back in a sneer.

“I have such sights to show you.”

part 3.5 teaser - nsfw