[ M - 001 ] The Red Box

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Baneful
General Tyrant
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Joined: Tue Oct 25, 2016 1:19 pm

[ M - 001 ] The Red Box

Postby Baneful Sat May 12, 2018 12:22 am

Lawr returned to his hollow kingdom, as always a little weary and coming away from his work none the wiser about anything. It had been a trying and taxing nightmare, torture writ in blood, the kind of horror he knew his subject would wake from in a cold sweat and think about for weeks to come. He specialised in nightmares a cut above the rest in graphic gore, the sort that haunted people as excessive and made them doubt their own sanity just a little every time. He walked slowly as he moved through the grand cathedral that led to his throne - because of course he’d created a throne for himself - his hooves echoing with every step. It was just him here, no animals, no creatures, nothing alive. Sometimes he created shadows of things he’d seen on his travels through the nightmares of other people, shapes and faces who’d repeat the same things over and over for him until they faded away, irrelevant. Lawr’s attention span was not at all long, focusing on things only as long as he was entertained by them.

Today though, marring the perfect marble flooring of his grand and beautiful home was a box. A red one, jarring and out of place in his pristine world, like a blot of blood on white sheets, or walls, or skin. He had plenty of blood in the layers beneath this superficial surface layer, but it was not welcome on the front, on his place he called home. He moved towards it with irritation, his ears flicked back and his eyes narrowed at the thing. It had no place intruding and he was much too tired to deal with anything dangerous after a whole night’s work.

When he was within reach of the box, he extended one of his hooves and prodded it with caution in case it exploded or otherwise sought to harm him. It did not. It simply sat there, stubbornly remaining a box and nothing more. He huffed in exasperation at it, flicking his tail. It was strange but at least not an immediate threat.

He opened it up and peered inside curiously.

Inside was a small cowboy hat, clearly sized for a child. A human child. It felt familiar but he wasn’t sure where from or why. It didn’t fit with his world he’d created here, his beautiful and terribly perfect world.

And yet he couldn’t get rid of it, taking it from the box to stow somewhere safe. It was important and he wasn’t sure why it made him feel some kind of quiet emotion he simply couldn’t place.

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