Her movement away from him sees some sense of placation take the darkened creature as the female is forced to eat upon the opposite side, leaving to the darkened King the side he has chosen for himself as jaws part to peel back the fleshy curtain of his lip and offer a sight of those bloodied fangs as saliva leaks forth and onto the deadened creature before him and those knives pierce flesh and hide, content to eat and consume now, willing to allow the female this same honour. There are so precious few whom walk beside him, whom may be said to linger within the shadow of his existence and live to speak of it, his mind loathes their weakness, feeds upon the frailty of their forms and yet since the time of her youth he has accepted the girl child. He does not perceive time, does not see change, understands only that this is she whom had hunted beside him before, that she is as he. He sees not her change in size or form, understands little of her growth for such things are meaningless. He sees only what is, not what has been and not what will come. She is she, at any age and in any form and as such she is accepted in the manner in which she has always been, though why cannot be said, the vile creature of blackened oblivious taking some form of liking to the girl of equal shadow. Perhaps it is their shared dislike to Devil and desire to feed upon him or indeed perhaps it is simply something more, the union of minds alike, Tobias given to relish in the presence of one whom speaks as he does, one whom obeys the laws of nature and offers no weakness to be chewed upon and spat out.

There is little to be heard in these moments save for the gnash and crunch of fang on bone, that heated blood rolling like a tantalizing siren of sensual delight down his throat, veins eager and hungered for more as canines and incisor tear into flesh, rewarded with each bite with heated meat and sinew as the female feeds opposite in a momentary calm between the darkened Prince, the most hunted of all creatures within Moladion and the girl that had lingered within his shadow in some effort perhaps, to be feared of the emotions that taint her as they do not him. He is free of such earthly bounds, free of any ability to feel that beyond the most basic call of hunger and winter lust, instinct demanding these things of him and little else, the truest demon to ever walk amongst these lands. For a moment those deadened emerald eyes roll upward as his bloodstained lips cease in their fervent feeding long enough to hiss forth that single word towards her, offering the girl the elusive utterance of his vocal chords. He has long been capable of speech, though his mind loathes it so readily, the boy drawn further and further back within those darkened recesses that speech has become a mere fragment of his existence, one he chooses to ignore unless forced upon, the wolfess breaking apart the bone between her forepaws as her eyes lift to his own in a meaning understood as he offers little more than a snort and rumbled snarl in response, derision clear as his own form leans back, the darkened hellion reclining in these moments, seated in a rare show of calm, dead eyes turned upon his meal once more.

“Whhhhy?”

It is a rolling growl, words barely audible though the sound as it spills from within his throat, eyes upon his meat.