That another has taken his meal, sought the heated blood before himself does little to concern him, blackened form given to stride further still towards the muffled cries of dying prey and the stench of a meal upon the air that lures the darkened hellion like mist atop the moors of Iromar. He seeks the blood, that warm, salty taste. Perhaps it is not so rich, so warm as the blood of wolf, yet he is opportunistic by nature, will seek what he can find and devour all weakness within his path. That another comes does not matter, he shall feed upon them if they will not allow him the meal he desires, such is the law of nature. For in these lands he alone is dominant, he alone is superior, undefeated, living against all odds to consume the vileness the plagues this earth. Those outside of packs are weak, ripe for the picking and indeed the thought only allows further saliva to dribble from his jaws in bloodied anticipation of the meal to come. Hunger surges within, his pace is quickened to a silent and deathly lope that allows the dark angel to sweep across the earth in ebony perfection as the heated scents and struggle draws close- though already the deer dies, already it’s body grows weak and indeed this draws the nightmare only closer as his muzzle tastes of the air and the feminine scent that cloys and mingles within the bloodied bath.
This scent he knows, this scent he understands, mind finding purchase upon it as memories tangle and wind like wisps of smoke within the vast expanse of his damaged mind. Stella. This name he knows, this form he knows and she is…accepted- for she has always been as such, always allowed to walk beside him for she is as he and he does not consume the strong, she is one of the rare and precious few permitted to exist within his presence, yet this does not mean he will not impose himself, will not enforce himself and his order as heckles lift like dark knives and lips pull back like a fleshy curtain from his fangs to expose the weaponary beneath as he approaches the female and her carcass. No more then a growl rumbles within his throat, a deep and guttural sound that commands her attention and her respect- yet indeed he will be given to offer the same should she please him in this manner. He is not a creature born to judge, does not care for the emotions of others, lacks such things himself, sees Stella only for that which she is at her core and as such treats her as any other accepted by himself, His growl a warning, yet not a threat, not yet, merely commanding she release the deer and step away, back down and allow him his right to feed first as he steps forward and into her space, ebony pelt brushing against her own the the most vague hint of….affection perhaps, or simple recognition for one whom he has deemed worthy of life as jaws part to seize what he believes is his own, snapping towards the female a single time. He seeks to drive her off, drive her back and allow him to eat his fill before calling her forward and allowing her to do the same- should she release as ordered.
“Mine.”
It is the single word he utters, darkened and twisted from within his ravaged throat, the scars of the Angel King from so many years past, eyes of emerald green lifted to meet the gaze of Stella’s own with vacant expression before he reaches once more for his meal, heckles falling slightly in a gesture of allowance, offering her to chance to eat beside him should she desire it- at least for now. His nostrils flare once more, picking apart the scent of heated blood to seek her own, the female tainted with the scent of another- an odour he knows well and one that causes teeth to bare should she inch to close to his form as she feeds, warding her away once more, seeking to keep her upon the other side of the carcass.
“Pack.”
It is only one word and yet with that ravaged, syllable he says all that need be said. He smells Diveen upon her and it agitates him.