So it ever was. So will it always be. Such is the nature of evil.
Nights. Nights are the bane of his existence. The god inside of him stirs in the darkest reaches of the world and flares beneath the silvery gaze of the moon. It demands that he awake from whatever restful state Underidge falls into and it clenches his insides with a sort of pain/pleasure that was deceptive.
Up. Up, onward. Her, find her.
Underidge did not need a mental picture of the female for the thing inside of him would take him where it wanted to be. He was not sure how the Shade chose it's disciples. Only that now that it had begun to do so, it seemed to be finding more and more with a speedy process that left little in the way of life for Underidge. At times he begrudged it that, snarled into the air and took back possession of himself. After all, what good would he do if he died from such exhaustion? Then it would coo to him, purr in him, and heal him from the inside out and he would be set to go once more.
His silvery eyes are bleary with the lack of sleep as he trudges across the rocky terrain, paws pressing skillfully between the rocks to the soft moss that grew over them. It was a bit damp from the afternoon rains and now a chill hung in the night air, cutting through fur and driving into bones. The kind of weather when one might commit murder or an act of treason. His mind flashes to the cream and white pup he had slain the day before, the way her small body had fought his assault and then finally the way she had accepted, even embraced, her death. She was too sick to live; a waste on resources. Besides, the Shade demanded her death and demanded to hear the mournful songs of her family that had lit up the sky like christmas jingles.
Mercy, she must have thought it was. In a way it was a mercy for her yet Underidge had done it because her snotty nose and her wheezing breath disgusted him. Weakness - it disgusted him. For a moment he had felt as if what he did had a greater purpose, the moment when she thanked him, and the moment when he had felt her spirit flee that wretched corpse it had inhabited. In time she might make her way back into this world through another host and maybe luck would be on her side.
Tonight, the thing that drove him to kill - not that his instincts hadn't been easily swayed by prejudices - made him move towards an area where the scent of a blood was fresh. He finds her without much aplomb, her russet fur almost black beneath the moonlight and the dried blood that clings to her. Underidge pauses before her, his eerie eyes staring at her and the breeze ruffling his silver fur so that it appears as if shadows run across him with his black undercoat.
"Your soul seeks the Shade, but is it ready?" His voice is sibilant in the night air, cracked and discordant. If she listened with her body perhaps she would recognize that he was one and two things and know of what he spoke.
"There can be no running from this if you submit. Only dedication. The Shade demands it. Obediance, for He desires much from this world and only we can give it to him."
UNDERIDGE
TWO - MALE - NO HEART - OPHELIA'S SOUL
OF TAVIORA - ENDERLY X BANSHEE