HOME | DD

Description

The night was almost done. Scythe yawned shamelessly.

“You see, when I came by, I knew. Smash a grin into a dying man’s face? The dirty tears and grit teeth of a fair-haired woman while you have her? Tossing kids corpses? Torching live pigs to spread fire, hilarious! Worse? And fighting, fighting, killing, winning... I’d lived through it all and I enjoyed some of it more than I’d care to admit. What had I become? A ghost passing over a circle of bones that encompassed the world, a cold wind, a hunting beast, always the next death, staring out of blank eyes, and always, always choking on my own blood.”

"It was not you who did that..."

“You think so? I'm not sure. You know what I did? I slapped the Monk for good measure and for handling me, unpainted. He took it with good grace. I got on the horse and drove it on, until it almost collapsed, until I, my very own body, not a memory, felt sore and dirty.”

She looked at her hands.

“I’m not humble. I don’t have to. I leave that to the monk.”

Mago chuckled. “You’re a goddess.”

“I am. Was, for some time, at least. You know what I got for it? The armour of a dead woman, taken from her tomb, the flower I gave you, my pectoral that I had lost, and a bag of dates. So sweet.”

Scythe had gone through all their supplies by now and looked a bit wistful. “It wasn’t a bad deal, I guess. And I did all that was expected. I wonder if someone was proud of me. I was never good at counting, and I lost track, but my time is nearly up.”

Suddenly she laughed. “Don’t get all moody. Imagine me back then, a crazed Treefolk putting on probably the most exalted piece of clothing ever, admiring my reflection in the water, giggling.”

DAZ3D Iray Render, Topaz & PS post work.

Image gallery: www.deviantart.com/magnus-stri…

Next picture:

Previous picture: ,

Mature Content

Description

The night was almost done. Scythe yawned shamelessly.

“You see, when I came by, I knew. Smash a grin into a dying man’s face? The dirty tears and grit teeth of a fair-haired woman while you have her? Tossing kids corpses? Torching live pigs to spread fire, hilarious! Worse? And fighting, fighting, killing, winning... I’d lived through it all and I enjoyed some of it more than I’d care to admit. What had I become? A ghost passing over a circle of bones that encompassed the world, a cold wind, a hunting beast, always the next death, staring out of blank eyes, and always, always choking on my own blood.”

"It was not you who did that..."

“You think so? I'm not sure. You know what I did? I slapped the Monk for good measure and for handling me, unpainted. He took it with good grace. I got on the horse and drove it on, until it almost collapsed, until I, my very own body, not a memory, felt sore and dirty.”

She looked at her hands.

“I’m not humble. I don’t have to. I leave that to the monk.”

Mago chuckled. “You’re a goddess.”

“I am. Was, for some time, at least. You know what I got for it? The armour of a dead woman, taken from her tomb, the flower I gave you, my pectoral that I had lost, and a bag of dates. So sweet.”

Scythe had gone through all their supplies by now and looked a bit wistful. “It wasn’t a bad deal, I guess. And I did all that was expected. I wonder if someone was proud of me. I was never good at counting, and I lost track, but my time is nearly up.”

Suddenly she laughed. “Don’t get all moody. Imagine me back then, a crazed Treefolk putting on probably the most exalted piece of clothing ever, admiring my reflection in the water, giggling.”

DAZ3D Iray Render, Topaz & PS post work.

Image gallery: www.deviantart.com/magnus-stri…

Next picture:

Previous picture: ,

Mature Content