It is with a savagely contorted roar of outrage the blackened hellion is given to be struck by another, the piercing fangs of Amutaq slicing into the paper thin flesh of his muzzle, parting fur and skin to release a small rivulet of blood that runs in a bloodied stream to congeal within his left I as the creature blinks and rolls that emerald gem in an effort to free it of the heated bloodied touch that gleams across it, the sound that pours from his throat a rabid, contorted thing that screeches and hisses with vile intent, wounds of old resulting in his ravaged throat and the horrific sound it produces in these moments as he recoils. For a moment his head simply shapes, powerful, hulking frame thrown violently about to free the blood from his gaze before he lands once more, heckles lifting again like blackened knives to slice at the air as the darkened angel once more proceeds to stare with deadened gaze and blank features upon the pair that faces him. The female has awoken, stands now with the male whom has sort to dare strike the true demon king as the fleshy curtain of his lip pulls back once more to expose those whitened daggers that have consumed so very much. Why do they seek to oppose him? To enrage him so?

He comes only to destroy weakness, to remove the vile stench of futile existence from this earth and each time another seeks to halt him. The days that followed the meteor strike had been his most productive, his most successful. So many had died, so many had been wounded and the nightmare had followed behind them, picking off those whom succumbed to wounds and weakness one by one, returning only to Aaliyah at night, the shield to her sword, the Demon to her Angel, the sire to her children for he is ruled by instinct alone and come the winter he will take as he desires, as instinct demands he must. Yet with the loss of Aaliyah his mind has rolled once more, what remains of his fractured, tortured existence seeks only flesh and feed, seeks to remove those undeserving of life. They should praise him perhaps, offer the weakened babes to him and yet they do not, they scream and shriek before him, come at him with fangs and claws though he has slaughtered all whom have tried- for nature alone has declared him invincible, nature has given him the perfection of body and looks, the male crafted of beauty so exquisite and yet nature so ugly as another snarl hisses between white fangs like a slithering serpent.

For a moment longer he waits, eyes flicking from male to female, as if seeking to choose the weaker from amongst them. The female shouts, vile, hateful words that burn and hurt his ears- for Tobias does not speak, so rarely is his voice heard, mind recoiling from the use of words in all forms….yet he knows this one, knows the scent of the male yet it is tainted, different- not as it was that day, mind unable to recognise Amutag as the son of Amorak, seeing only Amorak now and his mind remembers….remembers that vile mile whom had laced fangs at his side, another scream released as his size seems to increase with the lifting of fur and strides become deliberate, muscular form moving forward now, eyes unblinking. He seeks to drive them back, to force them into submission. If he cannot consume, then he will dominate them, force them to submit as he moves to rise above, head tucking, neck arching, teeth exposed in a command for compliance as he comes closer and closer still before those lips part, a rasping, hissing sound released that slithers and slides into the barest hint of words….so rarely heard, his voice thick and rough from disuse.

“Mine. Girl….is minnnne.”

Amutaq he will dominate. Lexi he will devour.