So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
This. This was the reason that he had fallen in line with Eden. Even as a pup Underidge had been shadowed by the beast of curiosity and sadism; perhaps it wasn't even sadism, just an innate need to find answers in the most unorthodox manner. They both shared similar beliefs despite going about things in a completely different manner, yet it is the baseline that drew them together. The day that he had killed that older male, tore him down piece by piece and dug deep into his back to finish him off, that had been a fateful day when Eden had slithered from the shadows of Under's consciousness, a manifestation of his own inner demon. They both aspire to things far different than the normal mind; the both grow eager to taste the end of others. To steal a taste of death, the old, aged sip.
Perhaps I can reach them for you. Underidge blinks, long and slow, and his head dips in only the barest of acknowledgements but maybe Eden, watcher that he was, would see the tensing of his shoulders, the way his eyes seem to squint as he opens them in an outward sign of pleasure. Such a statement from a King is like a gift - a gift of death's taste. There can be little doubt in these moments that Eden is still a demon like Underidge. Not the falsely bright Knight's that explore Molodian as if they are gods. They disgusted Underidge. For all their talk of kindness and strength they were as weak inside as the infirm or elderly. Weakened by sentiment.
The line of Under's silver figure tenses invariably as Eden steps forward. He does not move, as still as a rock beneath the brush of the rivers and as fearless. He does not fear Eden. They were born of each other, two halves of a whole. There is excitement in his closeness, in the unnerving stare he returns to Under. My brother has failed to grow, he says, and Underidge's facade slips slightly to allow his lips to creep up so that the tip of his canines can be seen. I desire to purge him of this burden. His lips rise higher and it is in some grotesque snarl-smirk, half here and half gone. Eden could not mistake the glow in his mercurial eyes, however.
"I will rip it from him." It was never a question. They both knew that, just as he knows that Eden does not want Abel dead. Therein lies the difference - he wants to see how weakness infects, Underidge wants it all gone. He recoils suddenly, ears flicking back in a petulant sort of disdain.
"As you wish." Unspoken questions answered and then the conversation turns to Attu.
The excitement that suddenly drives Eden is transferred to the Thorn of Glorall. His eyes seem to glow once more, his head lifting and ears falling back, a low growl bubbling in his throat. In moments like these none can mistake him for a tamed beast.
"They are weak braggarts. Fools and filth, filth and fools!" The words come spitting from his mouth, memories of Atlas assailing him. Of him trying to touch Paravana - HIS. Just as Attu was, inevitably, his simply by association.
"I won't strike against them for his death. I simply wish..." and now he steps closer so that the breath of him and Eden mingle together in a hot mess of stench and secrets.
"That I had been the one to deal that final blow."
UNDERIDGE
FIVE - MALE - NO HEART - STARSHADE'S SOUL
OF GLORALL - ENDERLY X BANSHEE - KILL COUNT (III)