and everything you love, will burn up in the light.
It is that sweetened scent that he follows, the scent of blood untapped within the veins of her very being that lure the creature at last away from the borders of Diveen and the prize he is sure is his own, the darkened bundle of Iromar fur spared perhaps by the obsession of his mind with the colours that mark her pelt. White on red. Blood on snow. The colours of his Aaliyah and Flare in turn, the colours that allure the darkened tendrils of his mind and allow his thoughts to fixate upon such things along until hunger and desire coil within him and see his bloodied form turn and follow in her wake. Tongue slides from the caverns of his lip and maw to swipe across his lips and teeth, smearing the redden and bloodied saliva of his victim from lip to lip in a crimson war paint that extenuates the scent within the air and only sees a new stream of saliva rise between his fangs and jaws in the simple anticipation of the blood to be had. This one he follows speaks his language and it is perhaps this alone that has seen he spared the slice of his fangs- at least for now. Her colours allure him, tease and taunt at his mind and stay the force of his desire for destruction. He can remember only that which he knows, understand only that which he has experienced before and he knows of the females of red and white…not for eating. Aaliyah was…not for eating. Her words whisper to his thoughts and sooth the demons of his mind in this moment though his stomach still rolls and revolts this lack of meat and flesh and blood, the more wild amongst those that exists within his skull clawing at the bone itself in there demand to feed and yet still he follows with tail high and teeth exposed in the promise of the violence to come, allowing himself to be lead in this moment, though for how long cannot be said. He is curious of her in some fashion and yet for how long his mind will find her form more intriguing then inviting cannot be said.
The pair are given to break the tree line in this moment, the whitened dove, daughter of Assassin and Granddaughter of the King whom had marked the throat of the Prince himself and yet still he eluded them, a shadow in their wake as he is now in the presence of she whom they have created, wandering behind her upon assured limbs of obsidian, blood spattering the earth from the wounds received and yet already closing and healing with the coagulation of blood within them. He pauses merely a moment, head lowered to a cut upon his leg, flesh sliced perhaps by tooth or rock or branch, parted to reveal that line of bloodied red that reeks of weakness unacceptable upon even himself as he tongue wipes across his forelimb, wiping the red away and yet….the metallic taste of such salted liquid seems to seep deeply within his thoughts as he seizes upon his own limb with the ferocity of any victim, teeth slicing deeper into his own wound as the flap of open flesh is torn free of the limbs entirely, rolled and chewed within his jaws before lost within the cavern of his throat….such is his madness….that he consumes parts of himself. So far he has fallen. His limb bleeds more freely now, a wound he alone has made worse and yet no longer seems to feel as emerald eyes of reptilian jade fall upon those of the female though she is quicker to cast her gaze aside, her form focused upon the earth, lowered as it should be, her willing acceptance of his domination a soothing thing that seems to lull the creature into satisfaction as a whine leaves her lips and his own ears slide forward, lips pulled back like a fleshy curtain from his teeth once more in warning to the female that he will tolerate submission alone from her form as he moves once more to come forward, to taste her scent upon the air, moving until it is he stands over her now…searching…..for even the faintest scent of fear of weakness that exists upon her.
The bloodied muzzle presses against her, streaking tainted red within her pristine white ruff as he seems content to…examine her form like an over-curious child, tail held high and rigid as is his right as a creature unchallenged, as a creature born of blood to dominant, so many generations of Alphas existing within his blackened frame- to many perhaps, to create a creature so indomitable. His movements are rough, muzzle pressed firmly into her fur as he trails the length of her frame before pulling roughly away at her hip, circling once more, a growl within his throat that rolls and rumbles like the coming thunder, the male seemingly having lost interest in her form as those deadened eyes unblinking fall upon her once more, that reeking scent of blood streaked upon her snowy form as he looks upon her still, once more seeming to force words to his throat.
“Gone...she gone.”
He offers little more, eyes boring against her own, unmoving, unblinking, clearly expecting her to understand his garbled speech. So few have ever survived his touch, fewer still witness to anything save for the violence of his mind and yet for this single moment he waits….