Why does the wolf chase? Because the rabbit runs.
Reptilian gaze fixates upon the shrieking white male in those moments, his rapid movements seeking only to further aggravate the blackened hellion, his vile words piercing at the air and grating against the sickening creatures depraved mind, a snarl of frustration and agitation ripping free of his throat, head jerked violently from side to side in some maddening effort to free his mind of the vile, vile words the white one shouts. No, no, he does not like the white ones, dirty white paws, dirty, dirty words, moving, moving. Perhaps Letum does not see this reaction, cannot understand that his movements make him only more vulnerable, that the creatures mind cannot distinguish between the sinful words he shouts, such vocals seeking only to further frustrate him in his inability to understand, Letum’s voice becoming white noise, painful, sinful noise that he will silence with the points of his fangs, his flurry of movement perceived as threat. Tobias cannot perceive his actions, he cannot fathom that such motions are brought on through some ideal of vanity, he sees only weakness, sees a creature who acts as prey with flurrying movements, dead eyes fixated upon him as Malina is forgotten in those moments, removed entirely from whatever fraction of his mind is capable of rendering her existence as saliva leaks once more from his jaws, heckles raising like dark knives. He will silence this thing, this white thing- agitation and desire to savage only increasing, his actions perceived as panic of a kind, fear, weakness and weakness must be consumed. He circles once more as Letum throws himself upon the earth, the growl within the throat of Jaidah’s child easing in this moment in this perceived offer of…submission.
He is dominate above all else, he does not yield, he does not bow, the demons within his mind screaming and recoiling against such a thing, the savagery of his nature refusing to allow another to raise above him. Perhaps it is some vileness within his blood, the blood of Alpha after Alpha infused within his form, forcing back any sense of self-preservation in conjunction with the infliction upon his mind, combined to form a creature who does not stop, will not stop until rendered incapable. He demands submission with the same depravity as he seeks that which is hot and warm within others, seeking to spill life across his teeth and tongue, driven by hunger and need he can never sate and yet bound inexplicably by some law of nature, some law of the wild that sees Letum’s form upon the earth as an act of yield, agitation soothed, if not briefly, as the towering, hulking mass of muscled obsidian eases back, depraved mind somehow contented in this manner.
Aaliyah.
His head jerks violently to one side and away from the white creature upon whom his violent nature has fixated, dead, blank features falling upon the small one, the one who smells of Angels as his head tilts and turns in some attempt to….understand. The name has stopped him, that single word seeming to instigate some form of knowing, something within the blackened tendrils of his mind reacting to this sound before he strides suddenly towards her. He does not growl, nor hiss, nor rage, yet his posture speaks of dominance, once more demanding it with every stride, emerald gaze held against her own as he comes as if summoned by this name alone to pause before her, towering above her small form like the blackened prince of all that is sinful within this world, the true demon king, one whom cannot be reasoned with, who cannot be talked down like those within Iromar who pretend indeed to be as he is. No. He is not to be played with. He is not as they and Malina walks a perilously thin line. If Letum is wise he will leave, will take this brief and momentary chance to flee before the darkened creatures mind returns to him, before those demons remember their meal, Malina’s distraction sure to last only so long as she speaks again, his ears flicking, attempting in perhaps his first ever show to another other then Aaliyah of some ability to perceive, though wether he understands or merely listens to her tone cannot be said.
“Aaliyah.”
He simply repeats the word, mind having made this connection between the mate he seeks and is kept from, the reason in this moment for his hideous rage, for the murders he has committed and the reason behind the trail of brutality he has left in his wake, mind incapable of accepting her absence, seeking her, his insatiable need for her presence driving him only onward and yet coaxed perhaps, soothed in some manner by Malina’s ability to react in a manner deemed acceptable by the nightmare. His head tilts once more at her use of the latina word, his mind having connected this with his Aaliyah. It was in this moment that Letum chose to rise again, sharp, loud words shattering this delicate, fragile showing of control as the black prince simply whirls in place, lips peeling back from bloodied fangs, savage growl ripped free of his throat as Letum is remembered, his promise of a meal remembered, his desire to rip and tear and spill the life so hot within once more brought to the forefront of his mind as those demons grin and snarl and scrape claws of hunger against his skull, the foolish, foolish white male having very near lost Malina any chance before she shouts again and Tobias is once more, if not monetarily- distracted.
He does not turn in response to his name, no, her tone is what holds his attention, loud, firm and yet calm, this manner somehow appealing to him, for it is how Aaliyah speaks, how she holds his attention, loud words, fast words, fast movement only activating his need to chase and kill. Malina’s subtly, perhaps, keeping her alive in this moment as he moved back towards her, dead eyes finding hers again as he pauses once more before her, his true size and power evident in these moments.
“Weak….for eating. Hungry.”
It is a hiss, dead, flat tone easing between his lips. He is dangerously close to her, any false move upon her part, any wrong word liable to send him into outrage once more as he lingers. Letum is weak, thus Letum is for eating and he is hungry. This he understands, this is all he understands and yet the mention of Aaliyah’s name once more sparking something….more if not only for the barest moment within the depth of his gaze. He cannot understand reason, in not capable of perceiving that one action may lead to another in this regard, her words meaningless, senseless to him as his mind attempts to pull them apart. Aaliyah. Take. Not Eat. He cannot gleam anything beyond such phrases, frustration becoming evident in his form before a growl rises once more within, a warning that she dances so close to the edge.
“Mine. Aaliyah……says mine, touching her…..them..…males....bring them. You….give to me. Them. For eating.”
Perhaps she will not understand his fractured, broken speech or what he asks for though it is not so unclear as it seems, his mind fixated upon that which Aaliyah has told him. Them. She says they are his, those others, those males he smells upon her pelt, something he does not allow, will not permit. He does not understand they are his sons he smells, cannot fathom that she must allow them to touch her- knows only he seeks their destruction, understands that the dark one before him can go where he cannot, so he asks for her to bring him that which he cannot get, those males who have been touching his Aaliyah, that Aaliyah says are his, his depraved mind not understanding that she does not mean they are not his possessions, not his for eating, the words twisted in his perception to believe they are his to be consumed, not his by blood. She asks Malina, to bring him his children- so he may consume them and Aaliyah may return to him.