Draven
I'm Your Worst Nightmare Dressed as your Day Dream
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WARNING - the following post contains mature content. No one under the age of 18 is allowed to continue, please exit from this post.
Draven had been held captive for months. Unspeakable acts had been done to him, such that the word torture could not even start to cover. He had been beaten within an inch of his ife multiple times, but the bastard simply would not die. His need for vengeance upon Halina kept his heart going, kept it beating strong even when he had lost so much blood that there was hardly anything left to pump. It was his mere will to continue living that kept him alive. Almost any other wolf would have died from shock and bloodloss. But Draven's mind stayed sharply awake, focused on his plans. He was obsessive with them, and he made plans for everything - how to escape, how to heal himself, who to kill, when to kill, how to kill. In his mind, he had backup plans for every situation. To some him up concisely would be to call him a sadistic genius.
That was one of the reasons that he had had not fled the scene where he had first raped and then murdered the fae. Running was a sign of guilt - of which he was incapable of feeling, making him even more complex by labeling him as a psychopath. No, he knew that in an area such as Romance River, it would be sure to be thickly inhabited with vargs. There would be be three sets of vargs present - couple who would be too caught up in each other to care at all about the screams, single males who would be too focused on getting their bones jumped to investigate... And then there would be the females who were too curious to avoid it. It was almost certain that another female would come to see what had happened, and Draven had simply hidden within the bushes, his ebony coat which had stood out so starkly against the snow of the winter now served him well, hiding him in the shadows of the dark mud and forestry.
He was not to be disappointed. Within a few minutes, a seemingly disoriented femme entered from left stage. She had a gash on her ribs that she finally seemed to notice... And then he noticed her nares flare. No doubt the blood of blood congealing beneath the fallen Storm was to blame - in the winter perhaps the snow would have masked it, but with the deep mud, the blood spread into the soil easily, expanding it seemed. How close this new femme was to the corpse... And Draven felt his fire rear up again, desiring more. Desiring to inflict on this fae for no other reason than the fact that he could. It was better, perhaps, that she was mostly ebony as well, and he could imagine that it was Halina... But that was just the icing on the cake. More than anything, he wanted to pass on the pain and wounds he had received to everyone else, making them suffer as he had. Tightening his muscles, he launched himself toward her, aiming to knock her frail frame into the mud, his maw open and aiming toward her front leg. If he succeeded in knocking her over, his maw would try to close around the proximal part of that upward limb, and he would yank as hard as he could, aiming to dislocated it caudally... It would make the limb useless until someone replaced it. "Hello, darling. Want to play?" A deep, maniacal laughed rumbled from his chest as he reached down to lick her mandible with his tongue.
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Ω Draven Ω Untamed Demon Ω Solitary Slave Ω Azura Ω
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