So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
It is submission he craves. It is power, complete and total. Once he had been the crux on which Sarabi rested. Once they had been inseparable; she had followed him anywhere and he had led with determination. Once was so long ago. Still, it is that old dynamic that comes into play as she dips her muzzle and pins back her ears, giving in to his hissing vocals. He should have been assuaged at that gesture but he was still furious at her thwarting him. At her having these pups, at her hiding from him, at so many things that he should not feeling. Not think. Twisted, vile things, and he finds in this moment that he is powerless to stop himself.
The demon that is Underidge takes control. He can taste her blood in his mouth and it drives him further into a wrathful madness. Her whines cut not into his lust or craze, only her obedience. Her body falls still and then he pushes off her and they are at an impasse, him screaming at her. Underidge has never screamed before. It is as if his vocals are being ripped to shreds from the inside out. The god that inhabits him stirs, scenting the air of blood and toying with its host. Images of her dead, of Thantos dead, but Underidge shakes them away with a mad jerk of his head, spittle flying.
What had he done?
He feels such a base revulsion at himself that he almost leaves her now to go throw himself in the river. To cleanse himself outwardly of what he had done. They were brother and sister and such a union was a
sin. A blight. Her words cause him to snarl once more and he takes a threatening step towards her, ears pressed so far down that they seem to blend with his fur as his silver eyes snap. But he doesn't pursue it because he knows she is right. Why?
She sinks down and it infuriates him.
"Get up. You are not weak. Get up!" The words are snarled in his throat as he snaps at the air, clearly quite out of his mind. It was her next words that silence him, his eyes settling upon her with an eerie detachment.
"You have nothing." Because he could no longer consider himself a protector - not that he truly had ever been. Or a companion or even a brother. Ghost - that is what he called himself to Grimoire. The words echoed on the tongue of Sarabi settle across him, cementing it into his soul.
"I'll be back in spring to see what sin we have wrought this day." It is a cold statement, a threat imposed in it; would he kill the children if they had any? Who truly knew?
So he turns and he darts into the words, running from her and from himself, a thing he had never done before. A weakness that was all his own.
UNDERIDGE
FIVE - MALE - NO HEART - STARSHADE'S SOUL
OF GLORALL - ENDERLY X BANSHEE - KILL COUNT (IIII)