“ Time undoes even the mightiest of creatures. Just look at what it’s done to you. “
* / WESTWORLD MEME CLOSED
He heard her voice somewhere behind him, by the doorstep. Her words fluttered through the air like WINGS. A little bird that had just gotten her FEATHERS and exposed them proudly ; Black Phillip could SEE them though … The promising TALONS of a BIRD OF PREY hiding beneath. They needed sharpening though. Oh, if only her MOTHER had taught her how to USE THEM. Slowly did the figure turn to face her. And slowly did the light touch his HIDEOUS features … Black Phillip was neither man nor goat. His face looked like a CRUEL horned mask, carved from dark wood with wrinkles so deep, one would think they were ABYSSES. Goats did not possess lips. They could not smile. Yet, when oddly shaped irises met Velma’s, a mouth was curved. And it was not the girl’s.
❛ Time scars us all. ❜ Whispered the monster, his monster as soft as VELVET but still impossibly LOUD. One hoof clicked against the wooden floor, then another, and Black Phillip stood up. He stood like a man ought to, on two legs, but there was THICK fur trickling down his frame, falling around his BLACK FEET. A tangled dirty mess, carrying dirt and dust and dry leaves . . . And something else. Something which dripped onto the floor beneath him creating small dark puddles of CRIMSON. Something laid behind Black Phillip. Something which still moved even if only sporadically. A short-lived canine whine filled the silence between the two of them. ❛ But I too know how to wound. ❜
