He is….furious tonight, the very earth seeming to quake with his rage as the lightning storm above illuminates his blackened form and obliterates the sounds of his snarls between each clap of thunder that ricochets within the sky above in an orchestra of violent, natural release. Even Flare could not console him tonight, the shadow turned from his mate, leaving her to nurse the children he does not understand. He has moved further and further from his cave within the fields, pacing, reckless, maddened as he turns in violent circles once more- blackened claws slicing open the earth as saliva leaks from his jaws in thickened streams and those emerald eyes seem…unfocused. He does not understand this pressure upon him, this pain as it bites into him from teeth he cannot see. He is mad, it would seem, unable to react as he should, as others do- to the pain of an imprint. Yet he is not as others, he does not think, does not feel- only exists, trapped within the reality of the moment for time holds no meaning to one such as he- and in this moment he is afflicted, seeking an imprint he cannot find. He does not know of the challenge Tick Tock had made upon the King of Asteraia, does not know it is her stress and pain he feels as any imprinted pair sure does when another is within distress. His mind cannot make this connection, cannot understand it is not his pain, feels only rage and hate at an enemy he cannot see until he is driven made with it.

He turns again, a vicious circle, a snarl forced from his lips to echo in the space that exists in that moment in time before the thunder explodes to hiss and crackle once more and his tail lashes in furious discontent before he turns savagely away. He is tormented, tortured by his very soul. It is a leech, a vile affliction he cannot be rid of though he craves it with near as much desire. A scent he knows permeates within the air, mind fixating suddenly and with a truly fearful intensity. He can smell her, Jaylah, his Jaylah, his thing- mind seeming to find…grounding in this moment as if her scent distracts him, pulls him from the ache of his soul as he searches suddenly for her. She is near, yes, so near, though she hides…hides…hides from him. A call of sorts rolls within his throat, a low and keening sound the kind a parent uses for a child. It is…wrong, twisted and yet he understands nothing else, calling to her, his Jaylah- seeking to summon her, demanding her in his insanity as it chews and claws at what remains of his mind.

His muzzle lifts, thrust upward to sky, jaws lancing suddenly upward as if he seeks to strike the lightning itself, roaring is rage at the violent sounds it makes, landing upon all four paws only to launch himself again in this display of his madness. He detests that booming sound, those flashing lights, angry….so angry…..not hungry….no. He cannot identify his own emotions, merely feels them, becomes them- ravaged by his very soul in such a manner he cannot perceive any ability to regain control as he calls again for her- for Jaylah. For she is his and he seeks what is his tonight even if this possession is not the one whom suffers. Another hiss is spat towards the sky as the rain begins to fall, heckles bristled upward as he walks forward, turning, turning upon the earth before abruptly stops, simply stops to stand- staring into the darkness, unmoving, unblinking. He hears her, hears her coming- deadened reptilian eyes fixated upon the blackness before him- waiting.