BLOOD, it drips from the shadow that now patrols the hillside. The wraith moves slowly, massive body flooding the space of the world with blatant evil. The crimson does not belong to the king of gore. No wounds lay upon the muscled mass of Malikye save for the elongated scar of long ago that resides along the side of his face. Shadows slither from their hiding places, coming to cling to his pelt in haste. They intertwine in his hairs, absorbing into his flesh like parasites causing his charcoaled pelt to appear even blacker. The ground itself seems to bend away from the touch of his murderous talons, morphing from the moisture of Springs’ entrance. It is the time of renewal, of life, and it makes the beast sick. Lowly, he growls, lips raising briefly to outwardly show his distaste of this season.

THEN it hits him…

JAIDAH’s aroma slides into his oval shaped nostrils tentatively, as if the very perfume she carried was fearful of his reaction towards such a pungent smell. The reaction comes so very slowly; the monster inhales slowly, attempting to make sure of it. Confirmation is granted when the aroma of blood weaves itself within her sweet musk. Nose wrinkles in disgust as head recoils as if he has been slapped. Ears flatten against his large, dark skull and takes a step back. Bloodied kissers curl back to reveal those life taking daggers and he snarls, shaking out his fur in anger. The beast snorts, spitting out her soiled scent onto the ground before lurching forward. In all his murderous glory he strides along the land, a force to be reckoned with. Shadows seem to leap from him, splitting in all directions and darkening the very places where he graces with his presence.

THOUGHTS attack the crazed mind of the aged loon; thoughts towards who this male would be to impregnate his creation. None were worthy to have such a blessing as his Jaidah. To say he love her would be an overstatement. To say he was proud of her would be an overstatement. To say that he even considered her a daughter….that too would be an overstatement. She was his prize, his protégé and the next generation of his darkness. He had never wanted a daughter for women were weak, useless and pointless to the world. How much he had tried to make Jaidah into something she was not and now, now it seemed that his mistake for letting her live had just slapped him in the face. She was a leader to a pack and while others may view that as a sign of greatness and strength, Malikye saw it as a weakness. She had gone soft on him, placing the lives of others upon her shoulders and now…now she was giving birth soiling the pure bloodline that he cherished so greatly.

WITHIN moments, he finds himself in the midst of a cliff, falling short before the slight entrance. There the beast paces, a war raging within his being. He can smell the aroma of two other femmes within the den. Malikye pauses in his pacing, a decision being made, as massive skull swivels towards the small entrance. Black specked crystals seem bright with death as he steps within. He has no authority within this pack, no authority on these lands but that means nothing to him. He is his own god, ranks and rules do not concern him. Pupils dilate as eyes adjust to the darkness the farther he draws in. His massive body occupies far too much space, suffocating out any more light that attempts to stream in. A submitted female stands a few feet away from the lying form of his daughter and the defensive stance of another femme. He turns to the girl who stands with her hackles raised. His own massive head lifts high, bloodied hackles rising as he snaps. Then, the wraith dismisses their presence with a mere snarl, kissers peeling back as they are blocked from his mind. They do not matter, and as of right now, they do not exist.

MALIKYE moves past the lower ranked female and comes to stand behind Jaidah a few inches away. That sinister gaze draws towards the things that wriggle against her body. Three. She has given three. Mother’s are usually extremely protective of their babies and knowing Jaidah, if any of his years of torture had remained within her mind, she was the worst of them all. He does not fear her jaws or talons and if she lashed out, his decision would change and there would be a bloodbath within this den. Ears remain flattened against his skull as a low, rumbling grow emanates from his gritted jaws. The smell of death is prominent upon him, mixing with that beautiful cologne of earth and power. “Awaken, child, let me see the creatures you have brought into this world.” His husky baritones are surprisingly soft, or as soft as his tones can be.

THERE he stands, looking over his roe as his shadows fall upon her and her creations in protection. To let her live, to let them all live goes against everything he is. He was not a liar though, and he had meant what he said when he had first crossed into her borders.


ooc: sorry if he is interrupting, I honestly couldn’t control him lol

.