M - daydream milk and genocide.

Haku Soul · 05-08-2010, 08:07 AM

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Haku seldom opened his mouth to try to explain how the world moved and what did and did not work. Hot sky blue frosted with ice glared at her hunched form and the organ that was retrieved from the dead chest of his unnamed daughter. Thick, coagulating blood oozed down the woman’s crimson stained hands, but what should still be pulsing and full of life was still and Haku saw nothing. The soul had departed and escaped his greedy claws. His gaze shifted and rose up beyond the trees and to the tranquil sky where the clouds rolled by incessantly. He took great pleasure digging into a canine’s body; feeding off it and taking in its taste, but not when death had been given time to seep into cooling veins. Delight was obtained by feasting on the soul and denying it absolution, not the mortal flesh itself. Yet, he did not resent the female for her effort to please him.

Amends were not beyond her reach and the beast could be kind and forgiving as any other creature. She was one of the few that had seen the hazy image of truth behind his mortal flesh. Perhaps his strange hunger would force him to return his focus on the ravaged corpse, but for now he lusted for warmth and life. Life always held the priority and it was leaking down in a nicely lined stream from the dark woman’s nostrils. Hunger roared inside him and yet again the beast felt the need to dig into her warm, mortal body and feast on her innards. This was certainly a strong urge, but the ancient being knew better than to loosen the chains of self control when another tainted body was near. Loneliness was a monster’s path in life, but paths were often crossed. Most had lacked recognition, but the darling Lykoi daughter did not. Desire.

Just as he had sent the woman’s body tumbling to the ground, he smacked the heart away from her awaiting palms. No, it was too late for that offering. There was nothing left. Then, graced with softness this time, his fingers interlaced with hers and he hauled her up on her long legs again; edging her closer as he took in her crimson stained face. Drying crimson clung to the woman’s eyelids still, but blood offered only beauty. Releasing her, a cream coated palm cupped her damp, crimson chin and he lifted her pixie face close up to his own. Eyelids drooped as the woman’s blood dripped down into the palm gently supporting her chin; madness dancing brightly within the blue.

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