Ever vacant he remains reptilian eyes as cold and dead as the gems for which they represent simply stare and shine like green hellfire in the pit of darkness that is the collection of his features so fine, so perfect and so, so beautiful. He is the true Angel of this land, though he does not walk with hope and delight upon those wings so dark. He slides with grace and silence upon this earth, with shadows that caress and soothe his form, bowing and scraping to their King as he comes with the promise of death and violent intent. Always, always he leaves behind him a trail of blood so thick and fine it cloys the air and leeches any scent of life from his blackened pelt until it seems the very air around him is chocked with it. He is Moladion’s scourge, a sin upon the earth, a vile and immune disease created by the white female who lingers before them, it was from she that he came, she and Demitri so black. He has taken his Father’s look and yet no more, it is his Mother’s mind that rages and coils inside, filled with demons who rave and scream and bay for a blood that drives him each night to hunt and feed on those who fall behind. He craves weakness, scents it upon the air and comes each time as if summoned by a blackened power to deliver a death they cry for in the end. He is the plague of this land, unbound, incapable of emotion in even it’s barest forms. He is greater than Jaidah, more then she has ever been- for she could not destroy him. She had been given her chance the day he ripped apart his infant brother and her weakness had stopped her, should not not take her own blood and he had thrived, reeking his plunder and hell upon this earth to return to her now. Why he continues to return to her cannot be said, he does not understand ‘Mother’ he cannot perceive her as anything more than a fractured memory to which such a word applies, yet even those demons know there is a bond between Mother and son, when he cannot break, one she had sealed when she had fed beside him. He dominates her, rules her and yet can still be summoned by her, though it would seem it was not her intention this eve.

He stands taller within the dark, with night and shade clinging to his pelt, seeming to stretch him further, taller, larger then he already is as deadened eyes stare with blank and devoid inability towards her as she comes, moving around the dark female, moving to place herself before him as heckles raise once more and his neck arches like a stallion of hellfire to flash bloodied fangs within the gloom, warning her as she comes and wisely stops. She is like him, not for eating, she bows to him- belongs to him, but he will not allow her closer than his depraved mind can stand. He will not attack her, but he will not be touched, no, he will not allow others to touch him. His mind remembers what the touch of others does, especially the white ones. Yes, yes, with their dirty white paws. He cannot love her, but he can perceive what is not for eating and Jaidah is not for eating, but the other is and Jaidah stands between them, this he does not understand, growl hissing from beneath his fangs in anger and frustration as his mind struggles fiercely to understand this change. Why does she stand before him? His mind does not know this situation and repeals from it, he can react only to what he has seen before and Jaidah has not denied to feed him before, she has not spoken such words before and his frustration is evident as his head shakes and a growl rasps from within his throat, saliva running in streams from between his lips until she speaks a word he understands. Mine. His growl ceases within that instance, devoid eyes still held against her own as lips slide atop fangs once more. This is Jaidah’s. This he understands, this his mind can perceive. The dark one belongs to Jaidah, is Jaidah’s possession as Jaidah is his own.

“For Jaidah.”

He simply repeats the words, imitating her growl to near perfect proportions as he does before the aggression fades abruptly, features expressionless once more as his form shifts, turning from Jaidah, turning to leave- when the dark one makes a sinful mistake. She laughs. He cannot perceive laughter, it is the single expression within his existence that he cannot connect to any form of expression, like a child who places faces and words, happy, sad, angry to their matching pictures....Tobias cannot perceive laughter, he cannot understand it and this enrages him. Jaidah should know this thing, Jaidah should see the change within the demonic male of blackened perfection as he rises like the eye of a storm once more and indeed if Jaidah possesses understanding within her pale form she will silence her possession- or see her ripped apart. The noise is vile on his ears, screeching and roaring inside his head as claws tear slices from the earth and the towering ebony male turns, her words mean nothing to him, they are simply more vile and disgusting noise. He cannot understand most words, he certainly cannot reason as her sentence would imply, she wastes her breath as he turns towards her with violet rage contorted across his features. Laughter drives him mad, ringing and screaming in his skull as his head shaking viciously, wildly as if possessed, as he moves forward. Jaidah will silence her, or Tobias will do it for her. Lips fall from fangs once more, the nightmarish creature sliding through the darkness towards her, to punish her, to savage her for this crime on his ears as dead eyes fall against her, unblinking, staring as he comes.

His lunge is swift and smooth in the night, for this male is utter perfection in this world, crafted with all the temptation of the devil himself as he launches, teeth aiming for her shoulder, aiming to rip open the flesh and yet- Tobias is a mimic, a play on life, he does not truly exist, not anymore then such an attack does, he copies another, remembers the fights he has seen and indeed though his jaws aim to part her left shoulder, this is a ploy, his muzzle barely brushing through fur as his head and jaws slice abruptly left. She will turn to defend herself, turn to place her jaws within him, it is instinct and he simply seeks to engage upon this moment, his teeth awaiting her throat the moment she turns to defend herself. He will tear her apart, because he cannot stand the noise, he must silence her. So he will. She is to blame, she and her vile laughter that sends wild the demons of his mind.





t o b i a s
the black prince