Tonight the Riverside was hauntingly peaceful not many creatures were stirring. The occasional hoot of an owl added some sound within the dark as the fog continued its slow crawl above the earth. The reserved beast enjoyed nights like this when there was hardly a soul around. Solitude was something she enjoyed and something she preferred. Lately she had been feeling that natural desire to be among others of her own kind to know how it felt to belong somewhere. Yet she knew deep down that she could not belong anywhere or for anyone. Long ago she learned about her Fate and what it meant, and ever since then she went down that lonesome and ominous path. It did not take long for the others within her home land to discover that ostracizing the very thing they feared would come back to haunt them, and pick them off one by one. Wandering at night provided the creature a small amount of solace, providing her a false sense of security. This false sense of security deeply locked away and remained hidden underneath a calm and apathetic exterior. A creature that locks itself away, that thrives on their internal pain is a creature that is far too dangerous to be around.
A charred wolf was indeed a surprise the scent of the dying animal far too distracting and concluding this tranquil night. Fathomless pools of sapphire narrowed on the she-wolf that was so very close to meeting Death. The shadowed creature was visited by Death and through him she learned just what her purpose was in this world. He had given her name by teaching her the inspiring sympathy of Death, her name mimicking the pleasant sound of a heartbeat. While the former alabaster wolf slowly get up the nightmarish wretch did not budge. Cold azure eyes did not blink once as her steely gaze locked on that one glowering crimson orb. The half torn ear that remained attached to her skull flicked back and forth with indifference at the snarl that choked out from Fiammetta’s maw. Those spat out words were met with a steely moment of silence before those same apathetic cold lyrics slipped out smoothly from her scarred maw.
“I do not care.”
It was true. She did not care. It did not matter to her should Fiammetta be alive or not. This downtrodden creature before her held no value of any kind. She was weak. Any one that was defected was not tolerated. It was her way to obliterate anything that represented such a vulgar thing. It was an insult to a creature that carried the weaponry of a predator. She was built and bred to take out anything that embodied weakness. It was getting a bit difficult to control herself from taking the girl’s life and feasting on her flesh, her hunger still lingering. Though she wasn’t quite yet done with playing just yet. There was a glint of amusement twinkling in her depthless eyes as a tight smirk crawled along her muzzle, her chilling statement whispered.
“An easy kill is an easy kill, there is plenty of flesh that has not been singed.”
The sound of a certain name caused the dark angel of death to slowly form a sinister Cheshire grin. Bright ivories were shown and they glistened within the rays of the moonlight. Traveling around Moladion allowed the loner to observe and listen to those that also called this place home. The very mention of Tobias had made others flee and speak in hushed whispers as if the demonic brute would approach once his name was said. For such an aloof creature she was well educated about this Demon of Moladion. For a few years she lurked within the lands not crossing his path until one night in the fields she had come across the emerald-eyed monster. With him she felt a familiar tug, one that she had destroyed the last time she felt it with the Servitor of Iromar. How and why she was given the ability to be attached to another she did not know, but it was the mere mention of his name and the wounded wolf’s assumption that she would quiver with fear. They say name is a powerful thing, and it is true, there is a reason why after all her years with in Moladion – not once had she ever gave anyone her name. Not even to her former imprint and daughter. Her mauled face would move closer to the girls. Those cold lyrics held a toxic tone, laced with dark humor, as she whispered softly to the dying child.
“Tobias is my imprint.”
Slowly she would bring her head away from the lupine allowing the girl the time to adjust and figure out what other last minute tricks she had. The Monster was not afraid of Tobias. Ever since she met the brute she had constantly felt his presence near her, moving when she moved, hiding within his own shadows. She was irritated with it and she would be at peace when she felt him leave her be. Tonight she had enjoyed her rare moment of solitude, but she was not annoyed with her new found toy. Wearing Tobias’ name was not a right for Fiammetta anymore, his name would not be an amulet no longer, her idea that hiding behind his name would bring protection. It would do no such thing with the demon’s own dark angel.
“In other lands my name brought fear to anyone that even uttered it similar to his, here no one knows my name. I am a ghost taking others here and there…surely no one will care if I took you. Which brings me to your first question – do you care whether or not you give up your last breath or not?”
It was a very easy question to answer – but would her answer be correct?
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