So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
The world, which had been quiet before and also drowned out beneath the fury with which he assaulted the now dead male, has begun to breath once more. Birdcalls tentatively echo in the woods although the animals of prey shy away as the wind brings them the scent of fresh blood and of predators. Already the world has forgotten that Rio existed. Already the process of decay has begun and the creatures of old reach up from the depths of the earth with slimy fingers attempting to pull apart his carcass cell by cell and drink it in, nourishing the body of the earth. At least now the male is useful for his body would bring forth life in abundance, vegetation to be shared with prey and prey to be shared with predator. It was the ultimate circle of life while the soul of the pitiful being would wander in the abyss seeking a new host or be tethered to the darkness that consumes Underidge.
How curious are the words of Eden with his secretive half-smile and attentive gaze. Underidge seems to pause in this moment now as he absorbs the words, tastes them within his mouth, and then nods with satisfaction for how truer could they be? Indeed, he has helped many cycles of life and death along in this very moment, this seemingly inconsequential moment.
"Useless."
The word is rasped as his silver eyes watch in curiosity as the whitened male moves towards the corpse. Underidge almost feels a sense of possession in this moment, his hackles rising without his say so and his muscles twitching as if to go after Eden, to ward him off the dead body. Yet he has no affiliation for the corpse, nothing left of it that he wants, and it is merely the side effect of adrenaline and power that create this, so with effort his hackles are smoothed back down and he blinks in astonishment when Eden licks the coagulating blood from the wound he had inflicted.
Pointed ears press back into his skull at Eden's words as he resists the words. But he knows that Eden is right even if he does not wish to bother with the corpse. He realizes also the necessity - if another smells him here then he might become a target all his own.
"Perhaps it should be a gift to those in the plains. I have heard tale that they find the taste of wolf a delicacy."
Now a sly smirk coils across his shiny muzzle, the idea of cannibalism is almost funny to him, him who believes a god rests in his own vessel.
UNDERIDGE
TWO - MALE - NO HEART - OPHELIA'S SOUL
OF TAVIORA - ENDERLY X BANSHEE - KILL COUNT (I)