exa-equo liked for a starter.
How long had he suffered beneath the ruptured yolk of the once immaculate meal he’d prepared himself? Far too long. The days grew in number each breath he took a labored excuse of an existence for what had he to live for now? A demon’s suffering, ten-fold. End world hunger, they proclaimed. But what of the beasts milling about restlessly beneath their feet?
Exhaustion overtook already heavy lids, lashes fluttering about rubies as the beast regarded the little one he’d been forced to contract with for the rest of his life. Nothing so unprecedented had ever occurred in this vile pit, there were no rules to govern the Impossible Outcome. What a vicious cycle this had become...
Let anyone dare try to tell him this is what vermin like him deserved. He was a Prince amongst peasants. He would flay them where they stood, bottling their screams for his slumber and fashioning what remained of their pathetic existence into a shrine for what he had lost.
“Shall we see the turn of the century with our own two eyes, young master?”
