So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
These children were a disgrace. He does not know why he feels that way. They are, clearly, healthy and growing. Sarabi has chosen to give birth to them and that should be enough but it is not. Underidge feels a rage beneath his skin, a prickling sensation. The need to release their wicked souls from their tiny figures and erase this memory that she has; for she is his. Just the same as Banshee was his. His mother. His to release, his to triumph. The wolves of Diveen had freed the soul of Attu but it left a sour taste in the mouth of Underidge. Attu had been
his. It is a weird claim he holds over all of his family, but moreso over Sarabi. She had always been his. His sister, his companion, even when they were in fact, not companions.
She slides between him and the children, her teeth matching the yellowed fangs that he bares in her direction. Almost he strikes. Almost he coils within himself to place upon her white maw a reminder to never raise her lips against him. She was his. Didn't she realize? Did she forget?
She speaks, though, and he listens. He listens in a way that he would not to any other wolf save Paravana and Eden. But he snarls at her words, edging closer and crowding her, wary not of her fangs.
"You are the one who disappears, Sarabi." He claims her again with his words, with the way his breath wafts across her face. It was not his fault, he thinks, for he would have drug her by his side each time if she had been there. Then again he had been rather wrapped up in his conquest of Paravana, the female nestled in his den.
Ears rise at her words about their mother and there is a satisfaction in his silvery eyes.
"You have always known me, sister." There is a breathless pride on his voice, so unfamiliar to many. Sarabi had always known his wicked tendencies but she never hated him for it. She knew it was his nature. He slinks now, between her and the children, the barest touch of their fur mingling. He hates the feeling and he revels in it, the intrinsic claiming of Sarabi.
"They are nothing." The words are clipped, disapproving, and something itches beneath my skin.
It is a rage, built long and simmering, because Sarabi. Is. Mine. It is disgust at the way my body turns to her now and I strike. This urge disgusts me, revolts me, but I am powerless to it because I am furious at her. For leaving me, for hiding from me, for being here all along and me not knowing. Being a stalker and not revealing herself. I take her then, gouging and biting and forcing myself upon her even with her son is nearby screaming and growling and nipping at my heels. If she struggles beneath me, I don't care, I do not stop until I am ready.
Only then do I press off of her, using my forepaws to push her away from me as I stumble back and snap at the boy Thantos who rushes at me. I will kill him if my jaws wrap around his neck but he is clever enough to evade me. I hate her for making me do this to her, to commit such a revolting sin.
"You did this," I scream suddenly, my eyes wild, my hackles raised.
UNDERIDGE
FIVE - MALE - NO HEART - STARSHADE'S SOUL
OF GLORALL - ENDERLY X BANSHEE - KILL COUNT (IIII)