
Marexx Uzilli
@mortuaryArtisan
@ keep out, as they say. @
@ i suppose it has been long enough that i can disclose what had happened. the emotional wounds, as well as the physical, have scarred over by now. fresh enough to sting, but old enough to not render the self speechless. @ @ i tried to kill my lusus. i, clearly, was woefully unprepared for the task. despite my towering stature and what i had assumed to be proficiency with my weapon... it was simply not enough. being locked up for so long, with no threats in sight nor reason to brandish my steel for any reason other than idle boredom or "practice"... she overpowered me, gnashed her teeth and swiped her claws, and yet, i find myself having persisted. @ @ perhaps her twisted affections have shown by means of staying the act of sending me to my inevitable fate. perhaps she simply considers me an object to be hoarded. whatever the case... @ @ i am still here. @
[Within this post is a selfie, taken at a high angle. A troll stands within an ornately decorated yet somewhat dark room of some description, her makeup smudged and her expression tired. What is visible of her skin, through the tears in her outfit and on her face, is marred with claw marks and dried splashes of blood. Most notably, the arm she isn't holding the camera with is hanging lower than it should be, the sleeve torn moreso than the rest of her clothing and drenched in purple blood.] #gore
@ it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it is for the best. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it must be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. it will be done. she will die. she will die. she will die. she will die. she will die. she will die. she will die. she will die. she will die. she will die. she will die. and i will kill her. i will kill her. i will kill her. i will kill her. i will kill her. i will kill her. i will kill her. i will kill her. @ @ no more. @
@ i will leave soon. one way or the other. @
@ an alien stranded on the planet? @ @ interesting. @
@ after all, i am simply puzzled that such a declaration would invite negativity. @
@ i will take the lack of a response as the inability to form one. @
@ i find the concept of friends as alien as the fleshy beings that post on this site. i have nothing but my dedication. @
@ there are few things that give me a fright. turning my head back to my device to be met with more than one or two notifications is one of those few things. @
@ if you see my sign, it is likely within the last vestiges of your life. and i am sorry. @
@ self reflection is a terrible thing. if my growth continues at the rate it has been- which, granted, unlikely, unless the mutation is simply that aggressive- i'm going to be peeling my recuperacoon off like a shoe at some point. @
@ i won't be able to attend myself, but i would appreciate were someone to record it. @
@ truly, i do not have much of a taste for violence. however, it does... tickle some part at the back of my thinkpan. it serves as inspiration. a reminder of how the corpus can and should not move. while i may not enjoy it, nor the idea of enacting it myself... it does lend to wonderful and terrible inspiration. @
@ does anyone have any suggestions for a thin material capable of keeping a troll aloft for an eXtended period of time? #gore @
@ considering getting a little avant-garde with my neXt piece. @ @ my mind has been on puppetry, lately. @







