The reptilian green of his gaze does not linger long upon She of Scars whom stands beside him, the blood of her wounds licked clean from his darkened lips as his gaze rolls within his skull to fixate upon the earthen child from whom weakness bleeds like an open wound and so begins to lure that violence from within him. He can smell the fear upon the other, the scent thick and heady within the air as heckles lift in agitation. He smells of prey, the demons of his mind beginning to hiss and curl, seizing upon this weakness as a rumbling growl begins to rise readily within his throat, deadened, unblinking eyes fixated upon this newest target like a moth to the heated flame as he beings to move. The shoulder of She of Scars presses against him, an attempt to halt him perhaps else enforce her will upon him as his lip merely lifts upward to flash fangs towards her. He will not tolerate this scent, instinct demands the removal of such things, will not permit such a creature within his presence as each muscle ripples and coils beneath that ebony cape , a single stride further taken towards the boy before he is halted in his advance- though whether by She of Scars or the presence of Eric cannot be said. Those sickening eyes roll within his skull once more to fall upon the white male, the red and white female and the smaller male that exists between them as ears lift atop his skull once more and blackened limbs see him descend that throne of stone.

Blunted claws pierce readily at the earth, slicing apart the soil beneath as he moves, head and tail lifted now as the fleshy curtain of his lip pulls back once more to display the whitened fangs beneath that have slaughtered so many over the course of his life. They should surely lord him, praise him, thank him for ridding the world of the vile weakness that permeates it and yet still they fear him, revolt against him, struggle desperately against his jaws when he seeks only to do as nature intended and remove them from this earth before the curse of their weakened forms can be given to spread. Yet it is not weakness he detects upon the white male this day, it is….a defiance of sorts, a curiosity that has awoken his own to some extent, a understanding of ‘same’ that so brings that demon prince towards the small family now. Thickened heckles lift once more like darkened knives along his spine, a warning perhaps that his temper balances upon the edge of the knife he wields from within, form stiffened, taut, muscle gleaming beneath his obsidian form as emerald eyes rest upon those of the white male at his approach. He is…curious of this creature, it would seem, his own dominance given to emanate from every pore of his form and yet it is not with blinded aggression that he comes upon the others in this moment. He can scent it upon them, upon Eric- at least, the scent of a prey most shared, a prey held common between them and it would seem in this moment they are given to be judged by that nightmare of Moladion, that darkened creature of legend that others speak of in hushed tones and nervous whimpers within the night.

He has permitted the lives of others whom share his affliction, allowed them to hunt beside him in the past and it would seem within this moment that what remains of his wretched mind is given to slighter and twist within his skull. The sound that rises within his chest is not a roar of disdain nor a declaration of bloodied war, more so it is a growl of…curiosity, head tilted slightly like a demented doll possessed before his muzzle merely extends towards Eric’s own, nostrils flaring to inhale that scent in this most tentative of moments before his muzzle is withdrawn suddenly, dark frame striding forward once more, very near shoving against the white male before passing him, circling, moving wide to all his gaze to roll over the child. He can see no weakness upon the young one, can scent no fear and as such, for this moment at least, his hunger does not stir nor drive him to rage as he moves a last to the one of red and white. His mind seizes so readily upon the tones of her pelt, that blood and snow…alluring to him as no other colour. She is as Aaliyah- the first of his obsession, the taint of her pelt fixated within the confines of his mind as such his reaction to her is…different. A growl rumbles still within his throat, a deep a clawing sound that vibrates within him- an unspoken warning all the same that he will not tolerate retaliation from her well as his muzzles reaches for the thickness of her ruff, burying amongst that red and white fur with something almost akin to….delight, in as much as it may be said such a creature feels an emotion related to anything pleasurable, jaws parting to lick momentarily at her fur, as if to test the red, to test it- before he moves abruptly from her once more.

His back is turned to them now, each of them, Starshade ignored entierly, seemingly no longer interested lest any should react to his inspection, for he hungers not today, is tolerable, for now, of each of their presences for they hold no taint of weakness though for how long he will remain as such cannot be said- his very form still holding dominance and command unspoken as he moves to wander several strides from the group now- seating himself within the grass before allowing that ebony form to roll to one side, stretching out atop that canopy of green and autumn gold- content to merely just….lay- for surely none are foolish enough to argue with him in this moment not to believe he has become unaware, for even a moment, of that which exists around him. His behaviour strange…obscure and yet rarely are any brave enough to question it.