He had never been so delighted, his tail waving slightly as he hears her call out, teasing him into existence as he maintains cover behind the rock. He hears it again, that scratching of paw against stone, no doubt her white nails click against the faces of the rocks. He learned this signal, Jaidah having shown him what it sounds like over and over as she attempted to sneak up on him from behind. He learned fast, he had to, and the one time she did sneak up on him – the very first time his mother tried – Jumanji had earned a rather nasty thrashing.

It was perhaps then that he realized these games were thrilling, that there was a better reason for being caught than to hide away like a middle schooler pulling a prank on the pretty girl in class. As she moves, so does he, listening to the echo of her voice drift against the rocks as the waves do upon the sea shore. A smile is on his dark face, those white lips pulling back to reveal daggers ready to answer that sickly sweet tone she uses.

Jaidah used that tone, when she was trying to teach him. Gods, he loved her broken mind, and her twisted way of play. She never let him have it easy, but if she left a mark, he returned the favor. By the sound of that voice, Lurid also wished to “play,” and who was Jumanji but a perfect gentleman. Of course, he would oblige her to a game. With a soft playful growl, and a wickedly sinful chuckle, Jumanji rounds the corner of his boulder.

His motion brings him face to face with his would be tormentor. His hypnotist eyes train themselves on her figure and he invades her space. ”You wish to play then, doll? I am perfectly capable of obliging such a request.” His tail flicks high above his back, and he doesn't even wait for her to respond before reaching out and grasping her roughly by the scruff, he tugs her downward, releasing her to dart back and away from her. He spins, his smile dark, yet oddly charming. He has missed these games, so let them begin.

male :: four years old :: belongs to no one :: none bear his blood :: homeless