The dawn will break soon. This he knows. Just as he knows the beat of a heart brings blood, that veins carry blood and his hunger is sated only when his belly is filled with this heated liquid as it runs from the veins and heart torn open and free to bath teeth and tongue in this joyous scarlet liquid that is the very essence of life itself. What remains of his meal is little more then mottled grey fur, a few bones picked clean and a single right hind paw that has been deemed, for whatever reason, unsuitable for his consumption as that tongue slides with sickly ease across the fleshy curtain of his lip, licking a stray flesh or tendon or blood that had somehow escaped the descent into the blackened pit of his stomach as that head of darkened perfection lowers to sniff as what remains of his meal. He is sated- for now, that Prince of Darkness and Forgotten Kingdoms as he turns away from the remains of the carcass that had so sacrificed itself to his own brand of obsidian divinity as that Angel of Death moves to glide atop the blackened fields now. There are no others this night, the field vacant in the wake of his hunt, only the scent of She of Red and White exists, the remains of his meal left for her to find and consume now that he has eaten his fill.

Heavy paws tread softly across the fields, claws parting the earth with each heavy stride as he wanders now, though where cannot be said, the demons of his mind are sated-silent and yet without them, without their drive and hunger and need he merely….exists…..as nothing. Those eyes so dead and vacant rest with luminous perfection within the darkness of his expressionless façade, form steadfast and unwavering as each muscle ripples and rolls beneath that thickened fur. He simply walks and walks, moving slowly across those empty fields now- for none will dare to cross them in his wake. They simply hide, cower within the shadows, pray he will pass them and leave them to live. It is merely fortunate he is filled tonight. The sun will come soon, bleeding sickening rays of vile light atop the earth and plunging his shadows into despair, forcing both the night and the hellion himself back to the underground and the myriad of caves that exists beneath these lands that allow the creature to move unseen beneath the prey he stalks in the darker hours.

He heads now for the den he has chosen for the day, steps slow and measured across darkened earth, his breathing rasping with each inhalation- that damaged throat forever given to manipulate the sounds that roll upon his vocal chords into little more than violent shrieks and screams and guttural groans. He will not be sated for long, his mind already dancing upon the delicacy of whatever sanity his meal has brought, this lack of need to feed seeming to have resulted a state of…nothingness, as if he simply does not exist, merely wanders, waiting until his desire to eat once more offers purpose to the creature trapped and chained within this mortal body, forever ensnared in a world he does not….can not understand. So he walks- with no purpose, heading for the den in the earth that will shield him from the rays of the sun he does not care to see.