So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
Underidge did not consider the unfairness of it all. It is like considering the unfairness that a human should kill a fly for merely surviving. If one's survival to another was irritation, well, then it was quashed. Under was not a pugnacious creature by nature but more accurately and introvert with violent tendencies. Hadn't he once slipped into the shadows of the everlasting night, met the hellfires that burned bright, and returned with a god caged in his ribs? Even now the Shade hisses within him. He can feel the rake of those godly claws that leave grooves on the fine bones of his ribs. His outside pain matches the inside now for the Shade is furious at his weakness.
When Eden responds with that firm voice of his, a sort of unloosening happens within the silver tipped beast. A relaxing of his muscles, of his psyche, having perhaps feared the loss of this home and Eden's favor. He had followed Eden for many years. Where the King's path tread, he followed, that silver shadow with madness in his eyes. An ear is cast to the side to better catch Eden's words, a thoughtful look on the males stoic face, but he offers a low growl in response. Not at Eden but at the idea of others having power over him. Of allowing them the leverage against Eden.
The only niggle of doubt that Under feels is when Eden looks back and those odd silver eyes follow, reminded once more of Kamala. He can feel her distress even now, his body trembling with some repressed urge to go after her, although it could simply be the pain of his wounds.
"Yes," he finally says on a sort of sigh, once more relaxing a bit. Closer to Eden. Hadn't that what he always wanted even when he hid things from the male? Like Paravana. Like Umbra.
The walk is tedious but Under takes Eden's silent offers frequently. Partly to reassure himself that the Fortitude would not turn against him. Would not rip apart everything that Underidge has built between them. Partly because he does hurt and he is weaker. Obediently the mad wolf sits where he is bid while Eden inspects him. The lash of his tongue against a wound makes Under groan and growl all at once.
"What does it taste like?"
The words are hissed from his mouth as he stares out at Glorall. Eden had spoken of the taste of blood on that fateful day when he had watched Under kill that male. Did Under's taste old and stale now? Did your son do this? Now a reaction comes swift, ears back, yellowed teeth flashing.
"No. He watched and bid the others to do it." There is acid in his voice, a hatred that ran deep, but also a sort of curiosity. Perhaps wonder. Slowly his ears lift and he considers.
"He is strong for now. Touched by the Shade. But his insolence will be the death of him." As I should have been, he thinks, a clear and coherent thought in his clouded mind.
"Why him?" He turns to look at Eden. Why did Eden send him to HIM?
UNDERIDGE
MALE - NO HEART - KAMALA'S SOUL
OF GLORALL - ENDERLY X BANSHEE - KILL COUNT (IIII)