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More from GoldeneyeGryphonSadist
I can’t say the name.
I know it’s ridiculous. I know that to be like this is just another victory for… for him. I know that he knows this. Of course he does.
And I know how heavenly – how “exquisite”, as he would put it (oh Catalyst, even that word brings back the memories) – it feels. To worm his way so deep into me that my mind itself is filled with him, choked with the terror of him, those dark feathers and soft fur, that terrible scent, thick enough to taste and hideously delicious… all fear incarnate.
But I haven’t mentioned the eyes.
He’s huge – a picture like this can’t describe it. You can’t even imagine it yourself, because imagination is nothing to the sheer reality. More than twelve feet tall, and far longer. Everything he exists with, he dwarfs and dominates. It’s impossible to describe what this bulk looks like – how your world becomes warm, silky feathers, your eyes seeing nothing but that endless black-sheathed body enfolding you, holding you close, snuggling you with the kind of tenderness no mortal hands could provide. How the vastness turns you from living sentient being to terrified plaything with but a twitch of those talons.
As long as he’s happy stroking me, keeping me close, listening to my sobs, then we can be at peace. But again, peace is an impossible word here. Even those hours upon end of softness, gentle caresses and slow, languorous licks… it hurts me. It hurts me more than I could ever have imagined pain. Not just the terror, not just that low, silky voice, spelling out everything I dread and all the pleasure I cause. It’s the knowledge – if knowledge is power, then this has burned me to my core, every time it happens. The knowledge that there is nothing ahead but pain. No life. No family, no happiness, no new and exciting world to play in. Simply pain, death, and despair beyond imagining.
It’s only now that I start to realise… I’ve always been like that. Ever since he found me, there was nothing but agony. I am dead, and he is simply holding me halfway between to torture me.
I said I hadn’t mentioned the eyes, and I wish to god that I won’t have to. But they need to be told, because while fear and pain have been visited on me so, so, so many times… they haven’t done a thing. Those eyes have never harmed one hair of my fur. All they have done is watch.
And the burning golden cruelty, lust searing brighter than a sadistic sun, in those orbs… it reminds me. Every time I look, pleading, sobbing, begging with my life and my existence itself: just. Let. It. End. Every time he dips his beak in that odd way he does, holding me close against his throat (how long until I slip down it, screaming and squirming as he savours every last second? How long until I am again shown: there is always something worse he can do?), and nuzzles me into that heat and that silkiness…. I can see those eyes, and they tell me the truth. He HAS truly done this. There is a force of sheer nature like this, pure power incarnate, and he has chosen to devote everything he is, all his impossible powers, all his brilliance and terrifying genius… to me. To my suffering. And that when I fight a god like this, when I dare to try to resist, nothing will ever have a chance of working.
So I can’t look away. As long as I don’t see those eyes, I can’t accept it. As long as I am trapped in his gaze, I can’t deny it.
That I am his. That he plucked me from my fate over eight years ago, and looked upon my pathetic innocent soul, and swallowed it alive.
And now, the crushing dark has only just become apparent to my eyes. The acids have only begun to bite. The agony is beginning now.
And it will destroy everything I am in its loving, searing flames.
Damian returns, in all his mercilessly evil glory, and this time we are granted a glimpse of his terrified, tormented plaything too. They are just such an adorable couple...
People are being far, far too nice to me lately. This was drawn by the incredibly talented Koschei and commissioned by the equally kind and generous Aeznon. Thank you so much guys. This page is intended as something of a snapshot of Damian's personality, but there may be more to come...
Contains: Anthro Arctic fox emotional torture Fantasy Furry griffin griffon Gryphon physical torture Sadistic Swallowing TheGuyWhoKnows Unwilling Non-vore Alex Damian The Taste Of Terror pre vore snuggling cuddling
I know it’s ridiculous. I know that to be like this is just another victory for… for him. I know that he knows this. Of course he does.
And I know how heavenly – how “exquisite”, as he would put it (oh Catalyst, even that word brings back the memories) – it feels. To worm his way so deep into me that my mind itself is filled with him, choked with the terror of him, those dark feathers and soft fur, that terrible scent, thick enough to taste and hideously delicious… all fear incarnate.
But I haven’t mentioned the eyes.
He’s huge – a picture like this can’t describe it. You can’t even imagine it yourself, because imagination is nothing to the sheer reality. More than twelve feet tall, and far longer. Everything he exists with, he dwarfs and dominates. It’s impossible to describe what this bulk looks like – how your world becomes warm, silky feathers, your eyes seeing nothing but that endless black-sheathed body enfolding you, holding you close, snuggling you with the kind of tenderness no mortal hands could provide. How the vastness turns you from living sentient being to terrified plaything with but a twitch of those talons.
As long as he’s happy stroking me, keeping me close, listening to my sobs, then we can be at peace. But again, peace is an impossible word here. Even those hours upon end of softness, gentle caresses and slow, languorous licks… it hurts me. It hurts me more than I could ever have imagined pain. Not just the terror, not just that low, silky voice, spelling out everything I dread and all the pleasure I cause. It’s the knowledge – if knowledge is power, then this has burned me to my core, every time it happens. The knowledge that there is nothing ahead but pain. No life. No family, no happiness, no new and exciting world to play in. Simply pain, death, and despair beyond imagining.
It’s only now that I start to realise… I’ve always been like that. Ever since he found me, there was nothing but agony. I am dead, and he is simply holding me halfway between to torture me.
I said I hadn’t mentioned the eyes, and I wish to god that I won’t have to. But they need to be told, because while fear and pain have been visited on me so, so, so many times… they haven’t done a thing. Those eyes have never harmed one hair of my fur. All they have done is watch.
And the burning golden cruelty, lust searing brighter than a sadistic sun, in those orbs… it reminds me. Every time I look, pleading, sobbing, begging with my life and my existence itself: just. Let. It. End. Every time he dips his beak in that odd way he does, holding me close against his throat (how long until I slip down it, screaming and squirming as he savours every last second? How long until I am again shown: there is always something worse he can do?), and nuzzles me into that heat and that silkiness…. I can see those eyes, and they tell me the truth. He HAS truly done this. There is a force of sheer nature like this, pure power incarnate, and he has chosen to devote everything he is, all his impossible powers, all his brilliance and terrifying genius… to me. To my suffering. And that when I fight a god like this, when I dare to try to resist, nothing will ever have a chance of working.
So I can’t look away. As long as I don’t see those eyes, I can’t accept it. As long as I am trapped in his gaze, I can’t deny it.
That I am his. That he plucked me from my fate over eight years ago, and looked upon my pathetic innocent soul, and swallowed it alive.
And now, the crushing dark has only just become apparent to my eyes. The acids have only begun to bite. The agony is beginning now.
And it will destroy everything I am in its loving, searing flames.
Damian returns, in all his mercilessly evil glory, and this time we are granted a glimpse of his terrified, tormented plaything too. They are just such an adorable couple...
People are being far, far too nice to me lately. This was drawn by the incredibly talented Koschei and commissioned by the equally kind and generous Aeznon. Thank you so much guys. This page is intended as something of a snapshot of Damian's personality, but there may be more to come...
Contains: Anthro Arctic fox emotional torture Fantasy Furry griffin griffon Gryphon physical torture Sadistic Swallowing TheGuyWhoKnows Unwilling Non-vore Alex Damian The Taste Of Terror pre vore snuggling cuddling
Category All / Miscellaneous
Species Gryphon
Size 1024 x 977px
File Size 1 MB
Thats why I love gryphons so much. They're powerful, magnificent, twisted and cruel, but they're snuggly. And it's I love the irony of a pre-vore cuddling scene like this: the only comfort the victim can grasp at is the silky warmth of the feathers of the creature that is about to kill them. It's delightful.
Thanks a lot, and I agree: Koschei had done brilliant job here. There may be more to come...
Thanks a lot, and I agree: Koschei had done brilliant job here. There may be more to come...
Ehm... well, it would make for an intersting conversation, I suppose.
*Click*
"Hello. This is the police. What service do you require?"
"Please... help me."
"Alright son, what's your problem?"
"I..."
"Well? Come on. We're here to help you."
"Look. I don't... I'm being tortured to death by... by a telepathic gry.. telepathic mythical creature... who, who, who swallows me whole, k... kills me, and then brings me back from the dead just... just so he can k-k-kill me again."
"..."
"And I can't do-"
"Right. You do realise that wasting police time is a feedral offence?"
"No! It's true! Please... don't just - I can't - "
"I am so bloody sick and tired of these prank calls you kids keep making. We could have you prosecuted for this, you know. Are you drunk?"
"No! I...I just-"
"Have you been suffering from depression recently?"
"I - Of course I fucking have! Over the past year I have been murdered four fucking times over! Yes , I'm bloody well going to be feeling-"
*Click*
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.....
"H-Hello...?"
Not to mention, there's Damian's promise: you tell anyone, anyone at all, then I swear to you that they will die. Screaming. And the gryphon may well torture and murder with gleeful abandon, he may be a creature of pure sadistic evil, but he has never, ever lied to Alex. That is simply... discourteous.
*Click*
"Hello. This is the police. What service do you require?"
"Please... help me."
"Alright son, what's your problem?"
"I..."
"Well? Come on. We're here to help you."
"Look. I don't... I'm being tortured to death by... by a telepathic gry.. telepathic mythical creature... who, who, who swallows me whole, k... kills me, and then brings me back from the dead just... just so he can k-k-kill me again."
"..."
"And I can't do-"
"Right. You do realise that wasting police time is a feedral offence?"
"No! It's true! Please... don't just - I can't - "
"I am so bloody sick and tired of these prank calls you kids keep making. We could have you prosecuted for this, you know. Are you drunk?"
"No! I...I just-"
"Have you been suffering from depression recently?"
"I - Of course I fucking have! Over the past year I have been murdered four fucking times over! Yes , I'm bloody well going to be feeling-"
*Click*
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.....
"H-Hello...?"
Not to mention, there's Damian's promise: you tell anyone, anyone at all, then I swear to you that they will die. Screaming. And the gryphon may well torture and murder with gleeful abandon, he may be a creature of pure sadistic evil, but he has never, ever lied to Alex. That is simply... discourteous.
But... he's got to take that chance, or he'll never be free! He's tastier that way.
---
I've always got the impression that Alex was imagining the gryphon due to some self-destructive impulse. Then proceeds to dismantle his own life through paranoia. Rich with the irony that -normal- life can be scary and painful at times, that individuals are -already- weak and helpless at the hands of more powerful masters, and that everyone is naturally doomed to die at some point. The evil gryphon coalesces in his dreams from everyday fears.
He's driven to suicide by this neurosis and then, surprise, Damien is actually a predatory ghost that wanted to eat his soul all along (what a twist!).
But Alex wasn't -completely- dead, and Damien takes his body to enter the real world. Cue straight to DVD sequel.
---
I've always got the impression that Alex was imagining the gryphon due to some self-destructive impulse. Then proceeds to dismantle his own life through paranoia. Rich with the irony that -normal- life can be scary and painful at times, that individuals are -already- weak and helpless at the hands of more powerful masters, and that everyone is naturally doomed to die at some point. The evil gryphon coalesces in his dreams from everyday fears.
He's driven to suicide by this neurosis and then, surprise, Damien is actually a predatory ghost that wanted to eat his soul all along (what a twist!).
But Alex wasn't -completely- dead, and Damien takes his body to enter the real world. Cue straight to DVD sequel.
Gosh... that's actually a really interesting concept. I admit I'm kinda pleased that it's inspired you to think about it like this. It actually works on so many levels: the fact that his injuries magically become healed when he is resurrected, as if they were never there at all, the way that he feels utterly helpless to do anything to save himself, the clear psychological trauma he's suffering...
I suppose it's possible that it's all a result of Alex having suppressed his more negative feelings all his life - as per the scene in Chapter 4: He felt the gryphon’s tender embrace enfold him, and clung to it blindly, a cub again, seeking any comfort he could, snuggling up to his mother while she hugged him back and he cried at his skinned knee, only three then and such a brave little boy, and promising himself he’d never feel that pain again, he’d lead a life of happiness and hope, he would, he was Alexander Joseph Williams and he was going to do so many things, and have such a wonderful life, and –
Throughout his life, he's forced himself never to feel unhappy, and has become so adept that it now happens unconciously... but of course the feelings of sadness, fear and hopelessness won't simply vanish. And so over time they have mutated and coalesced into an entity with no purpose other than to make Alex experience all the despair that he has never felt. A monster who knows Alex perfectly, as dark as the depths of the fox's psyche, a creature that is impossible in every aspect. Damian.
I suppose keeping the true nature of this situation ambiguous is nicely intriguing, so I won't deny your theory. It's possible.
But as for "taking the chance" by calling up the police: The problem is, Alex is certain that it isn't just a chance. He's looked deep and desperately into those eyes, those golden orbs of incandescent cruelty and blazing bloodlust, and he is certain that Damian will keep his promise. He is certain that the gryphon will calmly and patiently murder every last inhabitant of the entire planet if he has to. Regardless of the damage Damian has had inflicted upon Alex, he is still an intensely moral and kind person. He can't let people die for him.
That is the one agony that he has the power to stop Damian from inflicting on him, so to speak: the pain of knowing that by your actions, your loved ones are dying. So he dares not speak of it to anyone, and suffers in silence.
I suppose it's possible that it's all a result of Alex having suppressed his more negative feelings all his life - as per the scene in Chapter 4: He felt the gryphon’s tender embrace enfold him, and clung to it blindly, a cub again, seeking any comfort he could, snuggling up to his mother while she hugged him back and he cried at his skinned knee, only three then and such a brave little boy, and promising himself he’d never feel that pain again, he’d lead a life of happiness and hope, he would, he was Alexander Joseph Williams and he was going to do so many things, and have such a wonderful life, and –
Throughout his life, he's forced himself never to feel unhappy, and has become so adept that it now happens unconciously... but of course the feelings of sadness, fear and hopelessness won't simply vanish. And so over time they have mutated and coalesced into an entity with no purpose other than to make Alex experience all the despair that he has never felt. A monster who knows Alex perfectly, as dark as the depths of the fox's psyche, a creature that is impossible in every aspect. Damian.
I suppose keeping the true nature of this situation ambiguous is nicely intriguing, so I won't deny your theory. It's possible.
But as for "taking the chance" by calling up the police: The problem is, Alex is certain that it isn't just a chance. He's looked deep and desperately into those eyes, those golden orbs of incandescent cruelty and blazing bloodlust, and he is certain that Damian will keep his promise. He is certain that the gryphon will calmly and patiently murder every last inhabitant of the entire planet if he has to. Regardless of the damage Damian has had inflicted upon Alex, he is still an intensely moral and kind person. He can't let people die for him.
That is the one agony that he has the power to stop Damian from inflicting on him, so to speak: the pain of knowing that by your actions, your loved ones are dying. So he dares not speak of it to anyone, and suffers in silence.
Oh, they certainly do. Big, strong, fast and dextrous, very intelligent and cunning - and on top of that, they're soft and warm and snuggly. Feathers are the perfect thing to cry into as you realise just how hopeless you are at the hands of your cruel predator...
Gryphons are the best preds. Of all time. Anyone who disagrees will get to experience Damian preying on them first hand.
Gryphons are the best preds. Of all time. Anyone who disagrees will get to experience Damian preying on them first hand.
Indeed. It's that wonderful juxtaposition of terror and cuddly warmth that makes this series of mine so absolutely wonderful to write. Pain, sadism, terror... and snuggles.
Although be warned: when Damian's talons close around you, his games are only about to begin. Cruel, cruel, snuggly gryphon.
Although be warned: when Damian's talons close around you, his games are only about to begin. Cruel, cruel, snuggly gryphon.
Oho. Is that a challenge? *The huge midnight-black gryphon flares his dark wings slightly, holding his whimpering vulpine plaything close to his massive, feathery chest.* I intend to live for quite a bit longer... so you want to try and threaten me and my little one? *Damian cocks his great head, ignoring the tiny fox's desperate pleas* Bring it. >: >
Hee hee hee. Fun as that might be, for Damian there's only one way to go - live prey. Just so much fun when they squirm... Plus, of course, he's a telepath, so the emotions are just as tasty as the food itself.
Still, to each gryphie his own. As long as it ends with a satisfying meal. ^v^
Still, to each gryphie his own. As long as it ends with a satisfying meal. ^v^
So he's actually doing it to feel happy about how tasty he is? xDD People are strange :P For me the whole joy would be to chase the running fox, bite his neck off (or shoot it, I like guns ^v^)and eat when it's still warm and bloody, maybe even talk warmly to it, but when it's already dead :P
He';s doing it... for some rather complicated reasons, stemming largely from the fact that he believes that certain little fox to be without question the most beautiful and innocent thing in the whole of creation. Damian is mad, after all.
But he's also a very, very predatory sadist, and happens to find little Alex even more delightful when he's terrified and begging for his life. So alas, the fox will suffer through the gryphie's... games before we get down to the nomming. Poor little vulpine...
But he's also a very, very predatory sadist, and happens to find little Alex even more delightful when he's terrified and begging for his life. So alas, the fox will suffer through the gryphie's... games before we get down to the nomming. Poor little vulpine...
Oh good lord no. Alex does not want this to happen. In fact, thanks to the fact that the gryphon can and has been resurrecting him and bringing back to life after each sadistic, horrific death, the idea of being eaten by Damian is quite simply the most terrifying fate he could imagine. Psychological trauma.
And this... well, Damian loves this. He's such a sadist. :>
And this... well, Damian loves this. He's such a sadist. :>
If Alex just broke? That's Damian's greatest delight... he knows it won't ever happen.
The thing about Alex is that despite his weakness, his easily terrified personality, and his low tolerance for pain... he's actually very, very strong. Alex is just unable to give up on hope - it's part of his delightful appeal. Look, for example, at Chapter 5 - he knows he's going to die in agony, knows that his predator is utterly without mercy... and yet Alex still fights him. He still tries everything he can to live. The vulpine just loves life far, far too much to ever simply lay down and leave it. Especially with the traumatic months of nothingness in between the gryphon's visits... Alex is in fact a very durable soul. ANd Damian adores him for it.
As for how he met Alex... ah, this is why I intend to rewrite the first Chapter of TToT. Damian has been going the cycle to find, observe, grow to love, meet, torment and consume for over seven centuries... although Alex is by far his strongest, and the only one he's ever felt too in love with to resurrect. And how he met? Well... all I will say is this.
The skyscraper is a perfect perch. High, clear, comfortable, blissfully isolated... the Watchtower, it has been colloquially named by it's little inhabitants. How right they are....
I ruffle my wings, humming gently as my sharp eyes pick out innocent after innocent on the streets far, far below. There are so many beautiful young creatures, all species and all genders. I spy a pretty-looking sparrow, his dewy eyes shot into razor relief as he trots towards her wonderful future. With a few thoughts, that future can be mine. Mine to play, mine to break slowly and exquisitely... I imagine those downy feathers of Oliver's (the name already seems so sweet) sliding down my throat, wriggling so delightfully...
But no. She lives: my attention is caught by another. And another, and another, and another...
It's been two months now. Two months since poor Rosemary breather her last, curled and sobbing so wonderfully... I still treasure her memory beyond my others, the passion having not faded completely yet. She had been an utter delight... but the delight came from her end. I smile lazily, a claw tickling that expanse of black fur where the faint dent was the young marten's last act, still tingling in my Sight...
I rarely take this long to choose my next victim, really. It's odd. There's something new in the air, something strange. Their little Authority is undergoing yet another minor crisis, and maybe a few disturbances may happen, but perhaps there is more this time.
Regardless. I stretch out, my eyes gleaming, noticing a tigress now - sleek, athletic, talking sharp and quick tongued into a blocky mobile as she strolls downtown. Tanya Clements? My word... my dear, you may be just what I'm looking for.. I dance in her mind for a moment, curious, coy and gentle, sensing the beauty of her young soul... oh, my word. Passion. Confusion. Cynicism, and optimism, and -
-surprise. Irritation, alarm, what-
The feline is nearly knocked over by a streak of white, who has rounded a corner with frantic speed, nearly knocking her over just as my physical eyes snap open to spot this new thread. He stumbles, and slews to a halt, turning round to face her, and I see him.
Oh.
OH.
Every muscle goes slack. Every biological system shuts down, my loss of heartbeat coccooning me in deathly silence. The second as the young arctic fox moves, his limbs young and graceful - not fully formed just yet, but already with a tender beauty to them - is an infinity. My eyes drink in his sight.
Large eyes, crystal-clear blue with the tinest flecks of gold at their heart. His fur is thick and silky and of a white so pure that the very air almost glows from it. His face is a picture of innocence, open and friendly, kind beyond measure beneath two magnificently large, triangular ears.
Still in that shock, feeling my vast wings shudder and droop against me, I look on as a new beauty is revealed: his tail, thick, long, covered in the softest fluffiness I can imagine. Even here, I can imagine it. The fragility, gentleness, softness of him. The heart-stopping tender, total perfection.
Slowly, painfully slowly - I want to move faster than I ever have before, I want to scream - I shift my sight. His mind seems to coalesce into my vision with agonising slowness. But in a billionth of a second, with him still about to apologise to the tigress who is nothing now, the mind of Alexander Joseph Williams appears before me.
And it's gone.
Everything.
My plans, my memories, my lusts. Every other poor soul who has died for me. All the lives I've snuffed out. All gone.
Nothing can stand before this. Alex's blossoming consciousness sings with a total, blissful perfection - every star of memory, every cascade of emotion... all are beyond my imagining.
What precisely is the beauty? There are no words. There is selflessness, kindness, hope, happiness, love, purity - so much purity of spirit - excitement, joy, happiness... he is on fire with the most exquisite, gentle memories I have ever seen. And there is more... a tone, a song to the unknowing fox's head which is just... pure, total and absolute perfection. I cannot explain, but it's simple as that. Alex is everything I have ever craved and so, so much more.
He is perfection. In that instant, I know that there can never be another.
YES! OH, YES, YES, YES!
The psychic shout is a scream. Alex hears it - I feel watch his eyes blink and waver as he jumps, looking confused, and begin to weep silently with longing. It's unimaginable.
The fox will be mine. Even now, a moan of longing hums through me as I slowly begin to reclaim my body from the shock. Alex... Alexander... Alex... oh, my darling little one. Already it hurts me not to be down there with you.
I smile softly. I will suffer the pain, and wait. And wait until I cannot breathe for hunger - never before have I planned such a long, patient wait. But this fox, this vulpine, this piece of perfection... he needs it. He needs an infinity.. And then... one day... he will be mine.
I close my eyes, the tears of joy still leaking as I feel him go about his life once more. But he can't have it. Not when he's like this.
He's mine.
The thing about Alex is that despite his weakness, his easily terrified personality, and his low tolerance for pain... he's actually very, very strong. Alex is just unable to give up on hope - it's part of his delightful appeal. Look, for example, at Chapter 5 - he knows he's going to die in agony, knows that his predator is utterly without mercy... and yet Alex still fights him. He still tries everything he can to live. The vulpine just loves life far, far too much to ever simply lay down and leave it. Especially with the traumatic months of nothingness in between the gryphon's visits... Alex is in fact a very durable soul. ANd Damian adores him for it.
As for how he met Alex... ah, this is why I intend to rewrite the first Chapter of TToT. Damian has been going the cycle to find, observe, grow to love, meet, torment and consume for over seven centuries... although Alex is by far his strongest, and the only one he's ever felt too in love with to resurrect. And how he met? Well... all I will say is this.
***The skyscraper is a perfect perch. High, clear, comfortable, blissfully isolated... the Watchtower, it has been colloquially named by it's little inhabitants. How right they are....
I ruffle my wings, humming gently as my sharp eyes pick out innocent after innocent on the streets far, far below. There are so many beautiful young creatures, all species and all genders. I spy a pretty-looking sparrow, his dewy eyes shot into razor relief as he trots towards her wonderful future. With a few thoughts, that future can be mine. Mine to play, mine to break slowly and exquisitely... I imagine those downy feathers of Oliver's (the name already seems so sweet) sliding down my throat, wriggling so delightfully...
But no. She lives: my attention is caught by another. And another, and another, and another...
It's been two months now. Two months since poor Rosemary breather her last, curled and sobbing so wonderfully... I still treasure her memory beyond my others, the passion having not faded completely yet. She had been an utter delight... but the delight came from her end. I smile lazily, a claw tickling that expanse of black fur where the faint dent was the young marten's last act, still tingling in my Sight...
I rarely take this long to choose my next victim, really. It's odd. There's something new in the air, something strange. Their little Authority is undergoing yet another minor crisis, and maybe a few disturbances may happen, but perhaps there is more this time.
Regardless. I stretch out, my eyes gleaming, noticing a tigress now - sleek, athletic, talking sharp and quick tongued into a blocky mobile as she strolls downtown. Tanya Clements? My word... my dear, you may be just what I'm looking for.. I dance in her mind for a moment, curious, coy and gentle, sensing the beauty of her young soul... oh, my word. Passion. Confusion. Cynicism, and optimism, and -
-surprise. Irritation, alarm, what-
The feline is nearly knocked over by a streak of white, who has rounded a corner with frantic speed, nearly knocking her over just as my physical eyes snap open to spot this new thread. He stumbles, and slews to a halt, turning round to face her, and I see him.
Oh.
OH.
Every muscle goes slack. Every biological system shuts down, my loss of heartbeat coccooning me in deathly silence. The second as the young arctic fox moves, his limbs young and graceful - not fully formed just yet, but already with a tender beauty to them - is an infinity. My eyes drink in his sight.
Large eyes, crystal-clear blue with the tinest flecks of gold at their heart. His fur is thick and silky and of a white so pure that the very air almost glows from it. His face is a picture of innocence, open and friendly, kind beyond measure beneath two magnificently large, triangular ears.
Still in that shock, feeling my vast wings shudder and droop against me, I look on as a new beauty is revealed: his tail, thick, long, covered in the softest fluffiness I can imagine. Even here, I can imagine it. The fragility, gentleness, softness of him. The heart-stopping tender, total perfection.
Slowly, painfully slowly - I want to move faster than I ever have before, I want to scream - I shift my sight. His mind seems to coalesce into my vision with agonising slowness. But in a billionth of a second, with him still about to apologise to the tigress who is nothing now, the mind of Alexander Joseph Williams appears before me.
And it's gone.
Everything.
My plans, my memories, my lusts. Every other poor soul who has died for me. All the lives I've snuffed out. All gone.
Nothing can stand before this. Alex's blossoming consciousness sings with a total, blissful perfection - every star of memory, every cascade of emotion... all are beyond my imagining.
What precisely is the beauty? There are no words. There is selflessness, kindness, hope, happiness, love, purity - so much purity of spirit - excitement, joy, happiness... he is on fire with the most exquisite, gentle memories I have ever seen. And there is more... a tone, a song to the unknowing fox's head which is just... pure, total and absolute perfection. I cannot explain, but it's simple as that. Alex is everything I have ever craved and so, so much more.
He is perfection. In that instant, I know that there can never be another.
YES! OH, YES, YES, YES!
The psychic shout is a scream. Alex hears it - I feel watch his eyes blink and waver as he jumps, looking confused, and begin to weep silently with longing. It's unimaginable.
The fox will be mine. Even now, a moan of longing hums through me as I slowly begin to reclaim my body from the shock. Alex... Alexander... Alex... oh, my darling little one. Already it hurts me not to be down there with you.
I smile softly. I will suffer the pain, and wait. And wait until I cannot breathe for hunger - never before have I planned such a long, patient wait. But this fox, this vulpine, this piece of perfection... he needs it. He needs an infinity.. And then... one day... he will be mine.
I close my eyes, the tears of joy still leaking as I feel him go about his life once more. But he can't have it. Not when he's like this.
He's mine.
Damian knows that. Alex will one day simply snap, his ravaged soul unable to return, and the darkness will claim him as he slips away forever, his dying thoughts nothing but misery, despair and pain.
And in that case, if the fox is lost forever, then the gryphon will simply smile contentedly, stroking the still bulge within his dark form, take a moment or two or three to collect his thoughts, his memories of all his games with the fox... and then gently extend a claw around his own cranium, and crush it like an egg.
The gryphon, you see, is a hedonist - he would throw away everything in the world for just one second of the ecstasy Alex represents to him. Once he goes, there's nothing more the gryphon cares about. Certainly not his own life. Indeed, it's part of Damian's delight - he knows that this could be his last few hours as well as the little vulpine's so he savours them with just as much pleasure.
And between "visits" from his murderer, Alex is, as seen in the Epilogue to Chapter 2 (here, at http://www.furaffinity.net/view/7833518/ ), tormented perhaps worst of all... he's free. Alex is given back his life, with all the oppurtunities and delights it once presented... and has to face it all knowing that he's doomed to die in agony, at the slightest whims of his murderer. Everything he knows he can never have is being dangled in front of him.
Ah, such cruelty. :3
And in that case, if the fox is lost forever, then the gryphon will simply smile contentedly, stroking the still bulge within his dark form, take a moment or two or three to collect his thoughts, his memories of all his games with the fox... and then gently extend a claw around his own cranium, and crush it like an egg.
The gryphon, you see, is a hedonist - he would throw away everything in the world for just one second of the ecstasy Alex represents to him. Once he goes, there's nothing more the gryphon cares about. Certainly not his own life. Indeed, it's part of Damian's delight - he knows that this could be his last few hours as well as the little vulpine's so he savours them with just as much pleasure.
And between "visits" from his murderer, Alex is, as seen in the Epilogue to Chapter 2 (here, at http://www.furaffinity.net/view/7833518/ ), tormented perhaps worst of all... he's free. Alex is given back his life, with all the oppurtunities and delights it once presented... and has to face it all knowing that he's doomed to die in agony, at the slightest whims of his murderer. Everything he knows he can never have is being dangled in front of him.
Ah, such cruelty. :3
Perhaps. But not to Alex. The little fox has spent his entire life thinking about the future. He's taking his first steps into the bid wide world, with a lot of things he wants to experience in it. Alex wants to travel the world, to see the wondrous sights and sounds, to grow up and live his life.
And then, one cruel day in early January, he lost it all. And now he has to keep on going, with everything he could have dangled in front of him every day... and yet he knows that it's all hopeless. Alex's life will end, and it will end before too long.
And as well as that, there's the simple trauma - Alex is terrified of Damian, more terrified than he can even believe. Every day, he wakes up thinking it might be the day his murderer decides to come for him again, plunging him into more fear and pain than he could ever imagine. He's terrified that he'll let slip to his friends and family about his condition, which will result in their deaths - Damian did promise him that. He's above all able to watch his own trauma making his life fall apart, and that hurts him so much, every day: he's doomed. Alex has always been a great optimist, but he can't hope to denythe truth - there is no escape for him.
Yes, he may survive so far - although he will die, he knows it - but it's not a life with any happiness in it. It's a life in hell.
And then, one cruel day in early January, he lost it all. And now he has to keep on going, with everything he could have dangled in front of him every day... and yet he knows that it's all hopeless. Alex's life will end, and it will end before too long.
And as well as that, there's the simple trauma - Alex is terrified of Damian, more terrified than he can even believe. Every day, he wakes up thinking it might be the day his murderer decides to come for him again, plunging him into more fear and pain than he could ever imagine. He's terrified that he'll let slip to his friends and family about his condition, which will result in their deaths - Damian did promise him that. He's above all able to watch his own trauma making his life fall apart, and that hurts him so much, every day: he's doomed. Alex has always been a great optimist, but he can't hope to denythe truth - there is no escape for him.
Yes, he may survive so far - although he will die, he knows it - but it's not a life with any happiness in it. It's a life in hell.
The gryphon's motivations are complex. At its most basic level, it could be summarised as this: Alex terrified is far more beautiful than Alex happy. There's also the factor of domination, of controlling such a perfect being to the most terrifying extent.
But there's much more for the gryphon. Some of it is part of Damian’s nature as Voidtouched - as well as being incalculably painful, the transformation changes the subjects mind, and aside from the heightened intelligence and willpower it gives them what Damian thinks of as “Maw’keesa”, which is literally “cruel hunger” in the language of his home universe. It is essentially the defining feature of the Voidtouched: an utterly unquenchable desire to dominate, inflict pain and destroy. Damian has adapted this hunger into a single point, which he can focus on one individual alone: he sustains his desire to hurt through placing one person into the most exquisite despair obtainable. And that's Alex
One of the things so strange about Damian and Alex’s relationship, though, is that it has never happened before: the desire to destroy is just so strong that no Voidtouched have ever attempted to bring back those who they have crushed. It goes against their nature to preserve rather than annihilate, to protect rather than destroy. Mysterious indeed.
But yes. As I’ve hinted, Damian has suffered experiences all too similar to what Alex goes through, and this had a major effect in forming his personality. What I haven’t indicated is that the younger Damian was in fact very similar to how Alex is now: innocent, kind (yes, really, this was approximately 762 years ago, you know!), with a dear love of his family and friends… all of which was ripped away from him in an instant at the whims of another creature which he will not even speak of to Alex.
Similar, no? Damian certainly thinks so. And in order to deal with the trauma, he may have developed something of a subconscious desire to re-enact it, and take the role of the one with power, the one who he had suffered at the claws of. Here we’re getting into the murkier parts of his psyche… but I think it could be possible that Damian actually performs a kind of wish fulfilment here. He never harms his victim’s family unless absolutely necessary – that warning, “tell anyone, anyone at all about out little game…. And I swear this on everything you hold dear, Alex, they will die. Screaming. Right. In front. Of you.”, was made in the knowledge that Alex will almost certainly not do this – and I think this could be a kind of kindness to his unrealised thoughts: he can still remember pleading for that dark creature to spare his family, take him instead, make him suffer but leave them…
And now he has the chance to give his little one a murderer who is – to his blind subconscious thought - "kind". Who comforts his prey, and lets them suffer rather than those they hold dear. Who treats them like an equal in all but power. Who keeps them safe, and close, and warm even as they torture them.
And there's even more, no doubt, which even I haven't thought of. As I said: it's complicated. Apologies for the long delay.
But there's much more for the gryphon. Some of it is part of Damian’s nature as Voidtouched - as well as being incalculably painful, the transformation changes the subjects mind, and aside from the heightened intelligence and willpower it gives them what Damian thinks of as “Maw’keesa”, which is literally “cruel hunger” in the language of his home universe. It is essentially the defining feature of the Voidtouched: an utterly unquenchable desire to dominate, inflict pain and destroy. Damian has adapted this hunger into a single point, which he can focus on one individual alone: he sustains his desire to hurt through placing one person into the most exquisite despair obtainable. And that's Alex
One of the things so strange about Damian and Alex’s relationship, though, is that it has never happened before: the desire to destroy is just so strong that no Voidtouched have ever attempted to bring back those who they have crushed. It goes against their nature to preserve rather than annihilate, to protect rather than destroy. Mysterious indeed.
But yes. As I’ve hinted, Damian has suffered experiences all too similar to what Alex goes through, and this had a major effect in forming his personality. What I haven’t indicated is that the younger Damian was in fact very similar to how Alex is now: innocent, kind (yes, really, this was approximately 762 years ago, you know!), with a dear love of his family and friends… all of which was ripped away from him in an instant at the whims of another creature which he will not even speak of to Alex.
Similar, no? Damian certainly thinks so. And in order to deal with the trauma, he may have developed something of a subconscious desire to re-enact it, and take the role of the one with power, the one who he had suffered at the claws of. Here we’re getting into the murkier parts of his psyche… but I think it could be possible that Damian actually performs a kind of wish fulfilment here. He never harms his victim’s family unless absolutely necessary – that warning, “tell anyone, anyone at all about out little game…. And I swear this on everything you hold dear, Alex, they will die. Screaming. Right. In front. Of you.”, was made in the knowledge that Alex will almost certainly not do this – and I think this could be a kind of kindness to his unrealised thoughts: he can still remember pleading for that dark creature to spare his family, take him instead, make him suffer but leave them…
And now he has the chance to give his little one a murderer who is – to his blind subconscious thought - "kind". Who comforts his prey, and lets them suffer rather than those they hold dear. Who treats them like an equal in all but power. Who keeps them safe, and close, and warm even as they torture them.
And there's even more, no doubt, which even I haven't thought of. As I said: it's complicated. Apologies for the long delay.
You certainly have strength in your descriptive paragraphs. You could pull me in with the descriptions of the soft feathers and the alluring voice, yet thrust me away with your descriptions of his more sadistic side. You seem to be quite fond of giving mood whiplashes towards you readers, juxtaposing opposing elements in the same character. (Was that your intention? I am curious.) In the end, though, you leave no doubt on the ultimate nature of Damian, evoking visceral emotion to the reader. To provoke our imaginations, even daring us to imagine such a creature...
Apologies for the slight slowness. I wanted to respond to all your points here, and my replying was a little bit disjointed...
Well, thank you for the comments. I do tend to do rather a lot of description, I suppose, and I'm pleased you find them engrossing.
As for the difference in Damian's character... yes, the juxtaposition is what I wanted, and it's what I adore about him, even more so than any of my other predators. Despite the fact that he is an utterly insatiable sadist and a murderous predator... he's just so loving. I love gentleness and cuddling in my pre-vore foreplay (and I like that a lot), but I also love portraying terror and despair, and the way Damian combines the two seemingly at-odds ideals is addictive to write.
I admit though, I didn't want to give a conflicting impression because of it. For me at least, Damian's cuddles with his poor terrified plaything are simply another form of torture - rendered all the more hideous by its apparent safety and warmth. He acts gentle towards them because he it lets the terror blossom, and allows him to savour it all. That and... well, he just likes feeling his vulpine close against him. Did you get a sense that his gentleness and "softness" offset his otherwise pitiless character?
But all in all, he is a magnificent monster, and he will remain my favourite created character to the end of time. ^v^
Well, thank you for the comments. I do tend to do rather a lot of description, I suppose, and I'm pleased you find them engrossing.
As for the difference in Damian's character... yes, the juxtaposition is what I wanted, and it's what I adore about him, even more so than any of my other predators. Despite the fact that he is an utterly insatiable sadist and a murderous predator... he's just so loving. I love gentleness and cuddling in my pre-vore foreplay (and I like that a lot), but I also love portraying terror and despair, and the way Damian combines the two seemingly at-odds ideals is addictive to write.
I admit though, I didn't want to give a conflicting impression because of it. For me at least, Damian's cuddles with his poor terrified plaything are simply another form of torture - rendered all the more hideous by its apparent safety and warmth. He acts gentle towards them because he it lets the terror blossom, and allows him to savour it all. That and... well, he just likes feeling his vulpine close against him. Did you get a sense that his gentleness and "softness" offset his otherwise pitiless character?
But all in all, he is a magnificent monster, and he will remain my favourite created character to the end of time. ^v^
Thinking this more, I can relate to the juxtaposition only amplifying negative emotion. I mean, if someone who was mean to me suddenly became nice to me (especially if the cruelty and niceness was done in the same minute), I would retaliate angrily. I mean, I already have a feeling of the mean guy's true intentions, so a sudden change to niceness would not do me any good.
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