ANGER. It is something that used to drive him past insanity. Anger was his life source, his will to survive, his only true friend. Anger isn’t something that is negative, it is positive to such a beast as he. Anger is what holds him together in one piece…

THE wait is not long; that intoxicating perfume corrupts the rest of the smells and causes a strange calm to come across the rugged male. With just one intake of her scent, she has managed to tame the beast. Other fragrances managed to do quite the opposite, causing him to spin out of control and ravage whatever poor soul came across his wake. He was brutal, a killer with no mentality. But when she came around, a metamorphosis took place. Nostrils flare greedily, impatience wearing thin. Tongue slides out to taste the air in haste, lapping up the tempting taste of her flesh even from afar. He thirsts for her gently, hungers for her quietly and breathes for her dangerously. The seconds tick away and the world stills and waits for the bomb to explode. Only it won’t this time. The diffuser is on her way, taking her time as usual, but on her way none the less.

EMERALD gazers peer out at him in such a sudden manner that his ears flatten against his skull. Head lifts slowly as she takes him in while his own silver specked crystals scan along her frame. Her face is marred, battle sticking out plainly to him. Bloodied lips curl back in that comforting anger as those icy shards shift along the area. For a moment, he roars to life, hackles lifting as a step is taken towards her borders. He would scan the very depths of Iromar and destroy whoever dare lay a mark upon this one. But a smell hits him, one that he all too familiar with and he blinks, simmering down. It is the smell of death upon her, faint but there, which tells him that her attacker was just where it needed to be. She stops before him, positioned as if ready to fight, her muscles taut with anticipation and Malikye cannot help but lift a kisser in a smirk. “war becomes you, my dear.” Smooth, baritones stream out past such a horrific mouth, sliding into her ears as enticing as ever.

HER words cause his lips to quirk ever so slightly, a fondness forming from his cold eyes for mere seconds at her bold statement before retracting back to him and replacing it with a hardness all see. “To be honest, I don’t quite know who the boy belonged to.” his words slide out slyly, muscles rippling in a simple shrug. “if he was one of yours though, I will be waiting. I wouldn’t mind a taste of you.” What is that? Short and sweet, deliciously deep, it is a chuckle forming from the beast. And then it is gone and all seriousness returns to aged features. “Almost. I did miss you.” A strange haze falls over the two at his words, oceanic eyes caressing her face for moments at a time until her words break the pause. Another smirk is graced upon her being as the dark knight shifts his weight, ears flicking towards her as eyes narrow. “You could say that.” All gentleness is removed from his chords, the tone of them a warning for her to leave it where it be. Poison drips from each word, cutting off her possible curiosity.

HE will not speak of what once was.

INSTEAD, his ebony nose lifts, sniffs taken as a smug look falls upon his handsome features. His eyes scan the trees and finally he turns to rest upon her once more. Head tilts slowly, his face expressionless before he takes another step. He is drawing dangerously close to the one who dared snap at him before but he could care less. Massive bulk pauses before her, just in range of a bite as her perfume engulfs him. “This place smells of you.” malikye looks her up and then down slowly, eyes fogging over as the craze seems to overcome him. “Where is Andras, dear one?” His words are thick, husky, a shudder passing through his mass. They come out as if to question a child who has already been caught in a lie. As if to grant her reprieve before the punishment. His face reveals nothing, he does not snarl, does not growl, and that is the scariest part. Malikye, in this tense moment, is nothing. The death upon her did not smell of Andras but if by small chance she had done something to him, Malikye would not hesitate. For Aithne was not his lover, not dear to him.

NO one was dear to the beast. She was however, the closest thing to it. The fact that he was willing to kill someone like that speaks volumes for even those who are within his ventures…even they are not safe.

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