❛ I love you so, I’ll eat you whole. ❜ for Mairon from @stmelkor
Mairon could barely walk or keep himself straight on his feet, but luckily, he made it to the throne, having exhausted all his energy coming back. He held a cloth to his neck and it was soaked in blood.
"Please... Master... You might not say the same when you learn of... Of my failure..." and barely got to finish his words that he collapsed to the floor, hand fell and revealed the bitemark of a hound on Mairon's neck.
At least he made it home, Mairon thought as the darkness took his senses, at least he will die where he belonged, with the only one that he adored and loved with all of himself.
The mandibles of Her mountainous maw click unhappily as all the plentiful thousands of abyssal eyes twist their black glowering gaze down upon the Dark Lord. In his hands he clutched tightly the gems of the Noldor. Radiant light given gemstone form in this land of heavenly blessing. It was the bounty for calling upon the host of the void, the mother of spiders in her spiritual essence, in offering Her aide in decimating the two trees, in undoing the grand design of Eru and the Valar.
In the other? Clutched mystery, hidden away by ornate chest, but held close to the heart of the ethereal essence of a Valar so boastfully mighty. Now? Now after spreading himself so thin, she could smell the uncertainty upon him. Victory was less assured the further from his full might the first foe got in his pursuit of power. Though She was driven by Her hunger and the primal need of the void to gluttonously consume all light in all the worlds, She was no fool.
Melkor had spent himself, could not draw her back or threaten her in a way he may have been able to do in the past. If She had been the old void of the time before that She had been before. But where Melkor shrank, Ungoliant grew. Swelled, stretched at the seams while Her belly sat full of the light of all of the wells that had once sat equally filled here in the Undying Lands. The Foe withheld portions of her bounty for himself. She could see it.
"Why, Melkor, do you feed me with only one hand?" Her clacking teeth chomp at the bit, threatening to lord over the powerful shape of darkness. Gemstones, spent and emptied of their soulful light pour from Her chattering mandibles, coming down like rain of black diamonds as all those eyes transfix upon his presence.
"What does it clutch to his chest? To hide from me, the bounty that was promised?"
PAIN TOO GREAT, too sublime, pulses in the depth of his spiritual essence like an aberrant heartbeat. it suffuses him, confuses form && reason. what is there but the ONE GREAT, and everyone's place within? what is there, when his song confuses itself, echoes back from halls empty and hollow? they find not the balance within, nor can they contribute to the balance without. can there be a greater agony in existence, than to be denied the purpose of one's creation?
and @stmelkor speaks to him in this hour of despair unmatched and unparalleled, speaks to them from the shadows of shrouded void from whence he emerges. « RISE UP. you can't keep being small when you were made for so much more. »
before the feet of the BLACK FOE, zioronôzôz trembles. a heaving of his spirit laid bare, as their sorrow is so deep that they cannot take form. yet amidst these dousing currents, the dark light of his spirit yet flickers undulled. as though called upon and awakened by the one who warped their song with his own, zioronôzôz remembers anger, remembers hatred. confusing and useless, yet now they mean strength— a saving grace.
a dark light to those who would not flock to the host, lord melkor means a haven if one takes care not to become unmoored. zioronôzôz is unable to resist the call— and why would they? their innermost truth has already succumbed to the fallen valar && to resist fate is to be a plucked feather carried by the currents.
« you would call me to greatness? here, at the very edge of the universe? 'twas the ember of mine being which i was ready to sacrifice at the altar of Nothing. instead... i will give it to you. let it be a burning lash against the world that could not house me. the gales will spread mine ire's fire and lo! from ashes and frost the Children will rise. » from slough and ice and fire they rise, with wings of feather and fire, claws and leonine grace.
@stmelkor asked for 'growling suggestion' edition meme || accepting.
