tonight, my head is spinning; I NEED SOMETHING TO PICK ME UP ______________________________________________
He knew. Inevitable, that he'd be found out. That letting someone live to tell the tale would ensure the tale got out. There was nothing left to do but face up to it. He knew without a doubt that he would have to harm the female more simply for not heeding his words. It would happen when he found the time to do it. He'd rather be doing something more interesting with his time, but perhaps he could make a game out of it. Cat and mouse; one scratch at a time. Let her live in fear because that would amuse him.
It had led him to following her scent around, keeping to the shadows and covering his own trail as he went. A skill that he needed to have to survive. Either way, it had led him to a pack -- which he did not enter -- and then he'd picked up the trail leading out. A trail leading in the direction of where he'd been with his kill. Covet was perplexed at the reasoning for anyone to go back to such a site, and then he decided it had to do with the stories to tell. It would lead back to that, always.
It would lead him back to her, even. So he moves, spine alined straight, head level with his shoulders, tail out. He slunk forward, a slick arrow of movement. He slows, creeps from the sidelines as his black gaze catches two, then three. Scent of the crazy pack on the one; a hint, hidden in the folds, of birth mother. Covet's mind was made up in moments, and he stalked out, slid up against the red and black creature from Iromar. Let her snap at him if she must; he was ready if that's the path she decided. He meant her no harm. Unless she turns on him.
His inky gaze zeros in on Fathom, he curls his tongue over the side of his maw tauntingly. "Don't be messing up my artwork, baby. I'd have to make another, and you don't seem very committed in your offer to help." The words are low, silken, just the right amount of promise and poison.
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AT NIGHT I FEEL LIKE A VAMPIRE
it's not right; i just can't give it up
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