He has aged with time. Though he does not know it. For time holds no meaning to him, time does not exist, the days and nights blur into a repetitive pattern of existence and little else. He does not see the grey that has begun to silver his muzzle and extend from his flanks, he does not contemplate the tiny, fleeting moments in which his speed is momentarily to slow or his strength just a single muscular movement to weak. Yet age is coming, slowly, upon that Demon, that Nightmare, that Prince whom has so long sat atop his midnight throne and lorded his blood stained jaws over all whom seek to oppose him else dare to deny him the meals that are rightfully his own. Perhaps another would see the strength of the son, realise perhaps that any battle between them over flesh and carcass would be fierce and wild indeed that perhaps his berserker rage, even still, would seem him press back his own creation and yet perhaps the size and youth of the younger would be….respectable, more so then Tobias is willing to offer and yet how can he offer such? His being, his blood- the richness of a pedigree so fine within his veins is both blessing and curse, affording to him the perfection of his look, true beauty within those dark features, a form and build designed to be free of fault, the elite of the wolf and yet….his mind suffers, such blood affording him a dominance he cannot ignore, a desire to dominant so intense that nothing else exists within a mind so tortured, for such is the fault behind his insanity- that too much ‘Alpha’ blood can turn dangerous. So much so that he simply cannot see sense, nor hold any disbelief in his own power and perhaps he is more powerful- more ferocious. Such things remain to be seen.

The moment in which Father and Son collide in this brief engagement of strength echoes throughout the forests, tooth upon tooth as snarls hiss and growls rattle within throats in a cacophony of sund that sees Reaver remove his paw from the carcass Tobias has dictated is his own, fangs raking across his muzzle and yet for now he hardly cares- such a minor sting unfelt in the adrenaline flood of his fractured mind as a final, rumbling snarl is offered and he returns to the meal he has fairly won, oblivious to the impact of the stuttered words he offers through that scared and ravaged throat that seem to plunge the other male into the abyss of a memory as he scrambles backward and away. Tobias simply continues to feed, uncaring, unconcerned, untouched by the emotion that so seems to afflict his son as heckles merely lift each time the younger male paces too closely to his meal as flesh and blood are rapidly consumed, Tobias seeking the best of the meat, the richer flesh and organs within the chest though one darkened, cold eye remains upon the beast he recognises as son- the son he had sought to destroy so many times until Aaliyah had been forced to hide him and yet…..in the absence of Aaliyah he is….calmer, soothed, the boy no longer a competitor for Aaliyah’s attention and as such he is somewhat tolerable of his presence.

He feels noting for him, cares for nothing of his own child for Alyx (as he will always be) is merely a possession, a life to add to his collection, to use or abuse as he sees fit or to ignore entierly and in this he does, the male incapable of the bond of parenthood, any paternal protection offered ended the moment in which Aaliyah no longer nursed him and the hormones within her form no longer sought to repel Tobias, to keep him from her, to demand he guard and protect. Alyx is offered attention only in the moment upon which he approaches once more, tongue sliding from the lips of that blackened muzzle to lick at nos and chin and wipe away the blood that marks them, the younger male demanding his chance to feed and in this moment it would seem that Nightmare is willing to oblige- his fill has been taken, the best has been taken. Alyx may have what is left as any subordinate may, his distraction having resulted merely in his loss of a meal as Tobias simply turns from it, dark paws carrying that heavy, muscular, battle scared frame away from his son and back towards the darkened shadows of the Kingdom he commands, returning silently to his beloved shadows now that the demons of his mind are sated.

“Goodnight- Alyx.”

And they believed him incapable of true speech.