It has begun.
My paws move my great form of silver and black, like a goddess should move for I am a creation like no other. I am large for I am superior, I am graceful for I am better. My insides are lusting and thus my legs are thrusting. I run for I am wishing for blood on my tongue. I chase and smell fear for I am wanting to consume. I will not kill immediately for I want to be amused. I want to feel the rush of the kill, the rush of suffering that I so enjoy as I squeeze the life out of some unworthy thing that is to be my meal. Unworthy of life, a harsh and cruel game that we all play.
You see, I have been lied to. I have been lied to and this displeases me. I do not enjoy being displeased. It only creates this harsh cycle of death all around me as I kill and kill again. No, I don't like that my true identity has been held back from me for all these years of my life. There is no angel in my blood. There is none. I do not like that so many may have known and that they didn't have the respect to tell me where my true origins lie. He knew all along, Heyel. He felt it wasn't important to let me know my true blood.
It matters and yet it does not. It has only proven to me that I am indeed better than the angels, that their blood does not taint mine. I have found a new sense of superiority. A new sense of being, That is not to say that angels are unworthy blood, no. They are about as good as it seems it is going to get in Moladion. Apparently though, I need to forge a better line. A line with my blood coursing through veins so tough. I have yet to find anyone of true worth, and well, I have a problem with the fact that the male has to be on top.
My copper eyes are fixated on the prey ahead. The sun sets ahead of me and I think of how it will be the last sunset this little hare will ever see. It will be the last bit of air to fill its lungs. I will be the last thing it smells, and it will taste only its own blood. As I run, my voice of honey and gold cleanses the cool spring air of this sun setting evening. I sing a nice little song of death as I drift between the trees dotted along the crater. My copper eyes are fixed on the poor little thing, and I suppose I will end the chase instead of letting it listen to my Latin song.
"Parum parum est occidente sole in novissimo die. Nunc faucibus meis et ineant pugnas ..."
My words begin to flow into harsh, untamed growls as I hurl my frame at the hare so terrified. I lunge and my jaws agape grasp the brown thing as my paws tear up grass behind me in my halt. I am not quick with my kill. My teeth do not sink into flesh. I hold it effortlessly as I gather myself, my dead eyes taking in the sun's last rays before I fall to the ground.
I decide to break the legs first. I snap each, one by one, with my back teeth. I snort as I watch it struggle, helpless the little thing is. I let it rest its head upon my paws as I gaze down upon it, broken and wounded. I haven't even made it bleed yet.
"Paene sentire nocentem pro vobis, Animula. Saltem oculos non mentior."
My face remains so neutral and uncaring as I watch in the dimming light. I am not ready to let it die. I am not ready to let this little creature release its contents back into the universe. I will sit here and I will wait. I will let my fangs bite and puncture. I will bring pain and I will feel no remorse. My ears flicker as I listen to the silence of the growing night and the breath of the thing at my feet. This is the 4th creature of the day. I am not hungry nor will I eat it. I will take my time for now, I need to get all my...displeasure out before I get back to Diveen.