So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
Underidge feels a fierce pride as he sits at the entrance of his den, his body a shadow as twilight begins to lift. Eerie silver eyes stare down at the shade of the girl who lies slumbering in the confines. Paravana. She was his now and the Shade's and he felt almost jealous sharing her with his god. It was pleased with her, the memory of her kill still fresh in it's mind and replaying in Under's thoughts over and over. It created a fervor in him, a desire to press against her, to bite down on the back of her neck and mark her as his. To claim her so that none would ever feel a moment's hesitation in trying to figure out who she belonged to. The idea is tantalizing and he rises slowly, his spindly legs barely touching the ground as he moves further into the den so that he stands next to her, towering over her prone figure.
She is beautiful. It is a thing that galls him and draws him to her. That same beauty is what landed her in this mess, stuck in a cave during a thunderstorm and attracting his attention. Once he had asked her if she was a Princess and she had said no. Did she know now that his words had been prophetic, he wondered? That her father now reigned absolute over the canyons and plateau of Diveen. They searched for her. He had seen a pale girl sniffing and tracking an old scent recently that he had half-way covered up in his haste to return Paravana back into the clutches of Glorall. It infuriated him - she was HIS. So he had taken the time to erase any scent of her's that lingered around the edges of Glorall, peeing on the sites or leaving a dead animal to cover her scent with rot.
He lowers his head now so that his nose is at the tip of the fur on the back of her neck, his breath ruffling that lovely color, and then he presses it down to the skin. If she awakens, fine, but he would not allow her up. He sniffs her, rubbing his nose into her neck, and then his jaws part and come around her neck, teeth pressing in on her skin in a firm manner. There is no motive to kill, only to claim, to show her that he was pleased with her. That he wanted her. That he desired her. She had earned it - even if she did not want it.
If she does not freak out and struggle, he will press his teeth in quickly, biting down until his fangs sink in and the barest of blood trickles out to lap his tongue in. It excites him, his thoughts turning salacious, for power was a thing most divine, and having power over her was a heady feeling.
UNDERIDGE
FOUR - MALE - NO HEART - STARSHADE'S SOUL
OF GLORALL - ENDERLY X BANSHEE - KILL COUNT (III)