One kiss those lips could never lie
But I know something isn't right
Don't be fooled my friends aside
'cause I see nothing in those eyes
Jack was curled up in the warmth of the mother tigress who had taken both him and Ra in. She also helped by bringing food, gods knew where she got it from, but he was not going hungry. But she got up and began to leave, as she did, sometimes for days on end, coming back soaked, but with food. Maybe she had found somewhere to hunt? He had not told anyone. Not for selfish reasons, but because nobody had asked him. He had barely seen his own mother during this period of isolation in the castle. She was probably out popping pills or curling up with the closest male she could find.
At the tigress beginning to leave Ra had jumped up and run off. Jack, who usually trusted the animal’s behaviour, felt frightened for a moment. The prospect of being left alone. That thought chilled the young boy to his bones, so he ran after his cub as fast as he could. He did not care about the mud coating his bare feet, chilling him, he did not care when he feeling went from his fingers and his toes. Running after Ra was all that seemed to matter. Then he saw him.
A man.
A man standing in the wreckage.
A man standing in the wreckage holding his tiger.
His Ra.
Fingers clenched as he looked at the man, regardless of who he was he could scare him. He could make him run. He felt the strands of magic that had gathered around him in the recent weeks. He had only practiced on small things, like creating the illusion of mice, rats, small cats. That sort of thing. But he had seen a girl’s familiar recently. He had asked around, her name was Lilith. She was the Kaiser’s partner, lover, and friend among other things. But the familiar was what interested him.
The magic shuddered around him and the image of the sefert came to life behind him, and he stepped towards the man purposefully. Sure, he was small. He was just a boy, but the creature behind him looked real. It looked fierce and like it could rip any of them apart at the slightest inclination.
“That is my tiger cub.” Cold, chilling grey eyes peered out from under the wild and uncared for locks of brown hair. Anyone with half a brain could tell that he was alone, that this tiger was probably all he had. Having to raise yourself, or being raised by a tiger could do things to a boy. His voice was rough and unused. He clearly did not talk a lot.
Like that mattered though. All that mattered to the young Ripper was that he got his tiger cub back… Even if he had to use his claws to get it.
Jack the Ripper
Hatred never looked this good
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