Perhaps he was not exactly himself. In his younger years, he was a bit more brash and harsh, and as he matured, he actually attempted to use his brain more. He had become more calm and calculative, but still with a bit of an attitude. It all came with Lillith's taming, how she solidified his very heart and soul, and yet that had been shattered into oblivion. His inner instincts were released, and he could hardly control his own jaws from snapping wildly at the younger male.

His jaws came in contact where he pleased it, and he felt his teeth come in contact with flesh. His eyes grew wide as a growl rolled from his throat. He attempted a shake as he felt the impact, but the boy was indeed a slippery thing, and perhaps such a shake would not come to see the light of day. Blood had run though, oh how it runs, that crimson liquid of life seeping out of the pathetic boy's meat. He tasted it, and it only drove him more mad, knowing that he was real, so real that he had a taste.

The blood had caused a slightly pause, his breath growing heavy with a sick delight as his own personal demons began clawing at his mind. His mind was only shaken from it when he heard the words of the boy, a venomous smile, one of a snake about to snatch up prey. He licks his lips, lips ripped by previous battles, a devious laugh rushing out of his lungs.

"Know, I know her just as you know her, touched her just as you have when you exited her womb," he snapped, tongue rolling over his lips once more as his large paws continued forward towards him like a titan ready to strike. The boy's words, his voice felt so familiar, his red-tipped ears only pushing forward more.

"Can you not hear your own voice? It is the voice of your maker," he said, his voice rippling forth on a wave of a growl, his eyes focused intently on the boy with his tail slashing behind him.

"The black of your pelt is my very own, and I plan to take it back," he hissed, the feral brute rushing forth like a landslide. Perhaps he will skin the boy, starting at the black near his shoulder. That is where his teeth aim, jaws agape as he wishes to sink them into the skin of his shoulder, wishing to pull upwards and rip which pushing his whole weight forward to unbalance the boy. How could he create a boy so small and puny? Yet, how can he complain much- Siren was...almost exactly his size, and the thought of her brought on further confusion and frustration, that was seeping into his very innards he attempted to ravage the boy. Why was she there, where was she now? Certainly, the little girl couldn't have...no...