[P] [M] Cool as kittens, but the dogs they die.

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: Violence , death and sexual references .

OOC: For Aani. Back-dated to 18 June, just before this thread. Midnight, Amherst. Cloud and Rain. 


The black Secui moved like smoke through a nighttime fog, through the remnants of Amherst, through the shadows between dying buildings; a caliginous monster, a ghost in the mist. Wet from the latest downpour, his oil-slick pelt was pressed flat against his rugged and muscular contour, accentuating and animating the latent power he possessed. 

There was no moon, and only occasionally a lamp or candle presented their subdued scintillations from a window or door, or some other cavity. The occupants often snuffed out these flames in advance of Wrath's arrival. As if they could feel him coming. As if they feared his attention. But pulling the covers over your head does not make the poltergeist hovering at the foot of your bed retreat or disappear. It's still there. 

Wrath smelled the air, searching. Once he passed, they were safe, but someone further down the road was due to become both his meal and his entertainment. 

The evening was stifling, like being trapped inside the mouth of a sleeping dragon. He was becoming more irritable. His anger needed to be released. It boiled at the back of his mind, beginning to gnaw at it from the rear, working its way forward until a filter of red would cloud his perception of everything. It was the build-up to Wrath at his most horrific.

He lunged, grabbed a dog's hind leg as it tried to scramble beneath a downed and diagonal slab of concrete. The black beast ripped the retriever backwards with such savagery that his femur was ripped from his pelvis with a sickening pop. The animal, unable to shift, unable to run, howled in pain. Wrath stamped one massive paw onto the back of the retriever's neck. It was a good looking dog, the breed mixed, but the size of a labrador and of a more chocolate colouration. 

With his trachea pressed flat to the ground, the dog could not breathe, and it struggled wildly but in vain.

"Fucking die!" Wrath spat the words with searing disgust. "They... alwaysh run! You ran! How have you lived this long, you coward?! You do not deserve to walk these streetsh!"

The dog began going limp, no longer able to breathe, the carbon dioxide poisoning his blood and mind. But Wrath was not finished with him. He removed his paw and leaned forward, taking the retriever with its ear clamped between his teeth, nearly ripping it clean off while the mutt was dragged to his feet. As the blood began to seep onto his tongue, Wrath's eyes went so wide they almost glowed in the night. The mutt went limp again, and Wrath roared, this time taking his teeth to the scruff of his neck and dragging him with terrifying ease towards the shadows.

"Dinner time." Wrath murmured around a mouth full of flesh and fur as he dragged the dying mutt into an open doorway into the remains of a large, abandoned building.

Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
Leaving the safety of the Thistle Kingdom there was always a nervousness to ensue, cause the wench to pause, look around her, and then regain composure once again. This time she left her brood, far behind the borders of Salsola and with it, the safety of numbers for someone of such high ranking.

Perhaps in another life the woman may have remained composed, confident in herself, but the need and desire to take more power, was rising. Bubbling up like a sick virus, boiling her blood, and causing her to brood. Aani wanted what she couldn’t have, and that was the crown. Taking it by force, perhaps initiating help from others within. Those who didn’t plead he their allegiance to the red eyed queen, and yet, somehow even she knew it would be death if she tried. Tarnishing her name, perhaps even Eden’s. Take one, take em all. Not a forethought for her children, little bastards. Should have ate them the minute they popped out.

Easily being rid of one child, the Aston hybrid could easily be rid of the others. Such a brooding look was not pleasant upon her dapper and lithe face, concealed with a thick layer of protective, chocolate fur, dancing on its surface was a cream and mustard agouti. Likely inherited by the mutt of her own mother. Fantasizing about killing the wretched birth giver, her hand found her knife, concealed in the leather bands on the innards of her thighs. Working more and more closely with the knives proved to be useful, and lethal to some.

Standing in the shadows, an unpleasant noise interrupted the thoughts, and irritation flickered across her features. A thin line was drawn out of her muzzle, scowling, as those thin eyebrows drew downwards. A hand flickered up to flip her hood over the wheat hair, and silently, concealed in the darkness the woman followed the sounds of screams and now—

Another voice. Die. Peeking through the bushes, the Aston woman was neither appalled nor interested. Boredom crept onto her face. As he flung the dog from side to side, killing it and stating “dinner”, her first reaction was to leave, let him dine as the cannibal he seemed, yet then… a slow smile crept onto her features, and the woman emerged from the bushes, one hand hidden within the cloak, concealing her grip on the weapon, and the other was placed perpendicular to her body. It outstretched, finding the frame of the fallen building to use as a hold. Silently, she followed the blood trail into the open building, peeking in, just through the opening.

Seems as if no one has taught you not to play with you food, before you eat it.” Challenging, eyes found his… scarred face, twinges of disgust wrinkled her nose and the woman tilted a head to the left. Studying the circle of events that may transpire. Stepping backwards, the woman removed both her hands now, and willed him to come out and play.
The screams of the dying dog and the squelching, tearing sound from each messy chunk of flesh Wrath ripped from the corpse were loud enough that a stealthy strumpet had managed to encroach upon the evening's entertainment. 

As he turned to face her, he issued a long, steady growl and dropped a mouthful of crushed skull. It landed with a soft splat—a sound that no head should ever make—and an eyeball rolled free and towards her feet, with the optic nerve slapping the floor like a miniature whip.

"My mother mentioned it once... before we played. Before I ate her."

Wrath stepped over the now lifeless retriever and towards the newcomer. It was very dark, so the nuances of her voice and her smell were far more distinguishable than her image. He liked both for varying reasons. 

He saw the movement of her arm; expected. Whenever others saw him, their hand searched for a weapon, and their eyes searched for a way out. 

There was no point killing this one as well, however. Wrath's rage had been sated for now, and she did not meet his criteria anyway.

"There'sh no room for the weak and the dull. They dilute our kind. Make us lesh... formidable."

He watched the woman's arm shift away from the weapon. Not breaking stride, he timed his approach so that one good lunge would have her in serious trouble. However, he opted not to take it.

"You like playing with fire. I like playing with food. Seemsh like our paths were meant to cross." He grinned around the words, flashing his full array of teeth. 

As he drew closer, the size difference became more apparent. He was massive. Even in Secui form, his head was almost level with hers. He was practically twice as wide, and all lean muscle. His gaze was only partially raised to meet hers—one eye a deep amber the other a foggy silvered blue—and the extent of his scarring was revealed, as was the smell of blood and ground bone on his breath. 

Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
Aani’s chocolate form managed to send little in the ways of consternation to him, or perhaps, this was a normal way of hailing everyone.

The way his remark touched the air, speaking about his mother and eating her… it drew a soft spot in her heart for the wretched creature. A tinge of a smile pulled at her lips, revealing point, milky white teeth. Gently, it faded as the eyeball rolled towards her foot. If she so chose, she might reach out and flick it with a toe.

The bloody trail it left, caused salmon eyes to focus and unfocus. A heartbeat, and she bent down and plucked it up in, between his advancement, and her wariness, there was no room for error. If he were going to attack, surely he would have already. Looking up with salmon orbs, his face was close enough she might extend her arm and flick him on his nose, if she so chose. Instead, between two fingers she rolled the eyeball, and settled her gaze upon the ocular object. Studying it as if it were the most interesting thing in this room. Far more interesting than this demon wolf.

Red veined with hardly any white left, the color of the eyeball itself, indistinguishable. A decision was made as her gaze trailed back to his features. That smile that presented itself, somewhat dangerous. Holding out a careful hand she now held it from the nerve, with clawed finger tips. An offering, although the sheer meaning behind her wanting to feed him, was a display of dominance in her mind (although no way to understand it).

Revealing his lisp, a corner of the woman’s lips twitched, perhaps unidentifiable to him, those radar ears merely moved an inch. Stepping closer, yet, daring him. Heart rate thumped rhythmically in her ribs, For you, my sweet. A hoarsely reply, her other hand hung limply. Watching him, studying his reactions.

Indeed he was correct, the brash woman loved to play with fire and flame, alike. And right now, she was simply lighting the match, ready to watch the wildfire burn everything in its path. Wrath didn’t intimidate her, his sheer size was surprising and superior— obviously— but the serenity she maintained was surprisingly eerie.

Julia.” Alias chosen, name given, offering displayed. Now all she needed to do was wait.

His head dipped in a slow nod as his eyes followed her hand to the eyeball. He was impressed. Much like the dark witch, whose campsite he destroyed while taking down a deer, she was unphased and perhaps more intrigued by Wrath than she was scared.

Wrath appreciated this fearless curiosity. Sometimes it was an act, just as one may stand their ground against a bear, afraid but pretending not to be. The obvious option was to run; the dull and the weak option was flight.

Instead, she offered to feed the bear. The gesture was somewhat patronising, but again, interesting. 

He extended his large tongue; it snaked beneath the mangled orb, curled up the side and slid, hot and wet, across her hooked fingers before dragging the eye into his mouth. He swallowed it whole and watched her.

He only had half a face, and so only half of his lips. His words were as mangled as the half-consumed handsome retriever lying in the dark behind him.

"You don't want to run? Curioush." He grinned. "Whatever weapon you're carrying wouldn't be enough, you know."

He moved even closer, sniffing. He circled the woman entirely. He smelled the her crotch, her legs, her rear, then sniffed at her neck, and her mouth.

"Wrath." His voice cracked as he spoke. "Where are you from, Julia?" Cast on his deep tone, even her name was full of sibilance: Shulia.

He purposefully brushed past her. His heft carried enough mass that she could easily be pushed back a step or two if she didn't prepare herself. 

He was sated from the kill and did not need to torment anyone right now. But of course, once he found out she had lied to him, they would be playing a very different song. "Walk with me."

He moved outside into the street, took a left, sniffing the air as he moved. 

Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
No rhyme, nor reason, to the volatile way he held himself. Intrigued in a way, fingers were lapped at like an ice cream cone, and her nose wrinkled. Perhaps from the way the tongue made her fur prickle, or the detest she felt. Never showing any form of disgust in her wrinkled nose. 

”Perhaps you should chew before you choke.” surveying the environment, testing his limitations. 

To what extent? An abomination before her, entitled to only hisself. Serving none but the lands and the demons that plagued his mind. Or so she could assume. In a sick and twisted way, the woman found his lisp cute. Adorning, if any, the way she smiled. The attachment to him, already cradled around her own dark and twisted demons that embellished the way she felt now. 

A small “tch”, escaped her lips. Salmon orbs wolf with interest. “Why run?” A chocolate hand flickered outwards, as if flexing the remainder of drool from her fingertips. He sniffed her, her crotch, if anyone else it would have drawn out a blush, but the femme’s maw drew into an adoring smile. When he sniffed her mouth, a snake of a tongue aimed to flick at his maw. 

Reactions, seeing as he was an unhinged tank. As he pushed beside her, purposefully, Aani’s composure nearly faltered, instead she twisted, body following directly behind him. 

There was no response to where she was from, why should she answer to the likes of him anyways? Salsola, the Thistle Kingdom. A terror all in itself. And I’m silence, she followed, giving him a curious glance, before picking up her speed. Now she walked at his shoulder, one hand hovered as if wanting to feel the muscles rippling underneath the mess of fur. 

I hail from a Kingdom.” A reveal, though if he had questions she may answer. A look towards the part of his face that wasn’t scarred, studying his animalistic ways. “Are you all alone out here?” Rugged was the voice that spoke, raspy in a way. His appearance didn’t phase her, however, the woman would be sure to keep him on an ally basis rather than enemy. 

Silence, as he sniffed, continued the trek into the street.

Her suggestion about his lack of mastication didn't go down with Wrath as smoothly as the eyeball. But, before he could react, she slipped her tongue into his mouth to investigate his flavour: blood, fur, rain, and something more earthly—as if he'd chewed his way underground and through an old grave.

He was surprised by her boldness and her answer and failed to hide it from his face.

"Luperci usually run... sho they don't get bitten." His voice let go near the end; a strained hiss.

Wrath smirked as she twisted out of his way and then caught up with him. The demonic, skeletal side of his face was now hidden, and he could feel her curious stare on the other. His good eye was a molten amber and gold, something warm and shimmering; it lay imbedded in his contrasting gloss-black fur, like a small pool of smelted gold that was starting to cool. His ears were erect, his chin raised, and his gait was fluid and agile, despite his size. His impressive fur, laid flat by the rain, clung to his broad back and ample shoulders. 

He looked at her as they moved away from the city centre, into what would once have been the suburbs, but were now overgrown remnants being consumed slowly by wilding flora and the ceaseless assault of the elements. He was clearly intrigued. 

"A Kingdom—" He repeated with a frown. "A Kingdom far from here?"

He stopped in a large, overgrown clearing. The ground was once tarmac—perhaps a playground—that had eroded to fine, grey-blue gravel that rasped beneath the weight of each step and that was impossible to distinguish by sight in the moonless night.

"Do I look like the socshial type?" He asked with a grin that spread more quickly than cancer and bared long, curved teeth. But he paused for a moment to consider the question, thinking of Catskill, Ukiuk, the fire and the feast. He enjoyed that brief encounter. He had enjoyed their company, even if the feeling had not been mutual.

"I do better alone."  He said, turning more serious. "I can have what I want when  I want! Nobody can shtop me." He was surprised to find himself speaking again, revealing this out loud. It frustrated him, as he spent so much of his life playing his cards so close to his chest that even he could not see them. But now that he couldn't decide whether or not to slide into the dark ranks of Salsola, it was like he needed to speak. As if every thought and question and doubt had filled to the point that if he didn't get it out, his brain would shut down from the pressure.

"I will join Shalshola." He blurted, then frowned. 

He growled, then rounded on her. Only one more day before he intended to arrive at their borders, and here he was disclosing information to a stranger. She may even have been from the pack. He knew only small, shrouded packets of information about them, and because he had  to see their lands again, he did not want to risk an opportunity to be accepted on this stranger. But she was far too intriguing to kill just yet.

"If you even think about repeating any of this, you'll be my dessert!" Desshert. 


WC: 530

Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
Something about him made Aani’s emotions skyrocket. Perhaps for that exterior that seemingly was misjudged, feeling as though he were her and she him, the darkness inside, stirring her heart and for the first time in a long time, the woman felt an unhealthy attachment to something else besides herself.

What if I like to be bitten?” The long drawn out purr from her throat, uttered with a slurred growl, tempting him. Sensual in a way, if you could even call it that. Aani trusted her instincts which was enough to not push him further than she pushed others, normally. Although… a thought entered her mind then, and that brown hand that had been hovering over-top his shoulder, went to touch his pelt, carefully and gently at first. If he did not react negatively, the femme would press it in, feeling the muscles and give him a long, pet. As they walked feasibly.

The way he moved in his Secui form, naturally, was curious to her. A form of Lupreci whom chose to embrace their animalistic, scarier side, and uninformed of the potential deadly assaults of which may happen. The judgments. Was he not scared? But of course not, he was not a social type, after all. Aani’s salmon eye glanced over at him, her hand snaked into his fur, and she responded. “No, and yes. We are all sociable by nature, if that means talking to dead bodies, or one another.” Not from personal experience or nothing, no, no, never.

The way he grinned, drew a formidable stare from Aani, that smile suddenly growing into something atrocious. His statements made her almost chuckle, if not for the fact she feared he may have been offended. And then, his next statement drew a small pause out of her features, her orbs stared ahead of her and those ears flickered on her skull. Studying the way he spoke of them, the way he seemed to feel around on her, instead of reacting she blinked blankly at him, daring him to end her life.

One hand found the bridge of his muzzle, her face lowering to meet his orbs with her own, studying him, head tilted to the left, then the right as she let go of his muzzle (assuming he didn’t move or try to bite her), and would stand straight, dusting off her coat. “Rumors of the Thistle Kingdom, Salsola, how do you even know it exists?” A bait, drawing him in, that look in her eye told him she knew something he didn’t, and continued to play their little game of cat and mouse.

How do you know, Wrath?” Demanding, low, as her hand slinked back onto his shoulder (if he so allowed for it) and her muzzle would turn upwards towards the skies.

"What if I like to be bitten?" she asked. 

"Then it's win-win; I'd be happy to consume you... one small piece at a time." Conshume; piesche.

What surprised Wrath the most was her courage. He could sense her fear, yet at the same time, she tested him. Was she courageous or stupid? Only a handful of brain cells differentiated the two.

As her small hand came to rest somewhere upon the wide arc of his back and shoulders, he faltered in his stride. Until this point, only 3 women that feared him had touched him willingly: Deasia, his mother; Saphira, his nurse and great regret; and Malefica, the old, cunning witch. But this one was different. Julia coaxed him tentatively—more curious than sympathetic—exploring deep into his wet fur; he exhaled, visibly relaxing. Wrath, a Luperci whose character was barely removed from pre-infection Canis lupus, apparently still had the same weakness for being petted. Perhaps it had been too long.

Was she right? He was a wanderer, independent and alone; always had been. He told himself he fought and killed on behalf of other packs for food, fame, and fortune. Could there be another reason? Could he, Wrath, be drawn to... company? To society? Considering his inclination to murder, it would be quite a paradox.

He met her theory with a frown, opened his mouth as if to rebuff. But, it hung agape for a while and closed with a thudding crack of teeth.

She assuaged his anger as she massaged his muzzle. Another sigh of contentment before he tensed uncomfortably.

Usually, Wrath carried his scars with pride. The black beast's horrific injuries served as a perfect precursor to his sadistic intentions. However, this close, eye to eye with the younger wolf, he actually dipped his gaze and, with a snarl, pulled himself free of her touch, circling back around to face her a few paces away. Shocking, considering he'd leaned in to the witch's touch.

Fortunately, before he could explore the reason for this, she grabbed his attention another way: Salsola. There it was. The Thistle Kingdom of Salsola. His gaze narrowed.

"I've been there. And I took one of their deer... over fourteen moonsh ago." He had nothing to hide. He'd ruffled feathers during his first uninvited visit, and word had gotten to the leadership, yet he'd been left alive. "I've shpoken to a Shalsholan since. And you? You've been there, haven't you? No... Kingdom that's it, ishn't it?

He closed the distance again, drawing in her scent—honey, berries, something else. Something alluring, fresh, wild, untameable. The ocean, of course—he stood close enough to her that he could feel her body heat despite the fine rain that had soaked him.

"I am drawn to them. To it. Shalshola needs physical darkness. The rumoursh are only that. Old and exaggerated. It needsh a face, a face from a nightmare. And if you cross them, the very lasht face you will ever see."

Finally, the moon burnt a cold hole in the clouds, a window to a handful of the brightest stars and that white, pitted disk. At that moment, there was enough light to reveal her sharp but unarguably pretty features. There was a vast size difference; even with Wrath in Secui form, he made most Luperci appear small, and it perhaps would be no wonder that he was still alive despite trespassing. He was as covered in scars as the moon above, especially on his chest. On most occasions, a knife or arrow fell short of anything important. Either he was too big, or perhaps his heart was too small.



Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
Consume her, piece by piece. Mulling around the thoughts, her face flickered into a small smile. It was as if she dared him to do so, her position within Salsola had some angle to those in the Thistle Kingdom. Filled with horror stories and secrecy, maybe one day Wrath would know. The curiosity of what he was doing even knowing about Salsola and not being killed, was curious.

Cream fingertips massages his pelt, feeling him relax into her hand, her body moved in sync with his, molded into his side, practically, anyways. The sigh he released was audible as her ear flickered upon her wheat skull, the tendrils becoming moist from the rain the drizzled upon their back. The smell of blood, and death, hung heavy in the air. Thoughts suddenly dipped to that of Eden, her scents, and the way she felt now- surrounded by this demonic force of nature.

And suddenly, he was frowning at her, notable through peripheral vision, then he was yanking himself away as if she were poisonous. And the frown that etched her normally pretty features, was turned upon him, those salmon orbs narrowing significantly so, staring at his good side. Wrath was uncomfortably close, and what did she usually do in uncomfortable situations? Aani’s arms crossed over her bosom, her lips curling upwards into a sly smile, and her foot was put out, as if a child throwing a tantrum.

Now, he spoke again, filtering the air with a charge of energy, and her brow quirked, still standing the same way. So he was smarter than he looked, and he had been to Salsola twice. That was certainly interesting. Considering there weren’t many that she could think who wouldn’t run at the site of this monstrosity, her mind began to reel. This time however, her hand would gently reach out to his face, cradling the scarred portion of his face, then turning to tilt a head to the left.

Seems as if you are correct.” No angle to what he was correct about, then a simple response, again. “Yes.” A hum then, her hands gently falling from his face (if she was allowed to touch it anyways) and her muzzle would dip downwards, tilting so she may inspect his chest and neck, then turn to run that curious hand around his scruffy neck. Brave, or stupid, perhaps both.

Tell me who they were, their name. I will tell you my secret if you do..” The chocolate demon looked at the onyx Demon, a sort of serendipity beginning to form in her heart. Aani was far too small for this world, or perhaps, the world was simply not small enough for the likes of her own wrath.

He winced at her reaction to his temporary retreat. Her arms crossed, foot out. But eventually, when the tightness eased from his chest, he grinned again. To deal with that amount of attitude could be fun, but now was not the time. 

His attention was captured entirely by the talk of Salsola. That was his priority. It was why he was back in Amherst, heading back to their territory. 

She made an appealing proposition to the great Secui: Spill some of his information, and she'd reciprocate. 

All of this with her palm audaciously centered on the worst of his scars, her pads brushing flesh, gums and impossibly large teeth. He didn't pull back this time, but nor did he lean in for more. A soft growl began to rumble, his healthy eye shifted away, and he looked beyond her into the darkness. His claws were extended, sliced through the gravel, and hooked deep into the dirt like anchors. His shoulders bulged with the tension, his jaw clenched. His wild gaze locked with hers once again.

When she let her hand drop, he had a moment of repose, but it didn't last long. He instinctively moved forward again, inviting her hand back into position, this time moving into the touch as her hand slid up his muscular neck. His long muzzle rested in the crook of hers, his scimatar-like teeth close to her ear and jugular.

He spoke quietly: "If it's a shecret relating to the pack. That will not go well for you, will it?

Two scouts:" He began, "Evelyn, quite pretty and quite brave. A thinker. Held me at bay with a bow, or.... at leasht she thought sho.

Then, another, a male. Older than her, and bad-tempered, too confident. Boring. Predictably angry at my preshence. Not worth killing unlesh he continued to shtand in my way.

Some moonsh later, it was the leader. I believe a leader. Large, in this form, almosht my size. Necklace. Scars. Grey coloursh. Dominant, aggresshive...smart. Definitely a killer, definitely a leader. I do not know his name, yet. "

The rumbling snarl crept into his throat and eased from his mouth. "You, now... and it better be good."



Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...
Cream fingers wrapped around his muscular neck, working with a purpose, perhaps to unkind his knotted neck, or perhaps to calm her own nerves. Something she didn’t let him in on, nor explain to him, regardless.

Standing beside him, at least for a moment, the woman noticed their height differences and then noticed the way he turned on her at the drop of a ball. That kind of attitude would be useful to Salsola, no wonder he was willing, and wanting, to go. However, another plan began to form in her mind, and the woman’s smile curled onto her face. Just in time for Wrath’s jowls to rest upon her shoulder. The quiet rumbling of his voice created a new kind of feeling in the pit of her stomach, stirring up desire and lust.

His words, as they touched her ears and she mulled them around, were not taken lightly. So, he met Evelyn, her betrothed’s sister, and from whom he described it would seem her met O’Riley. Interesting.

The growl that produced in the back of his throat, made her fur prickle on end and the woman turned her head ever so lightly so she might have touched his ear with her tongue, right before her scratchy voice erupted from her throat. “I am from the Thistle Kingdom.” Whispered and then the woman’s grip tightened as she dipped a tongue into his ear lobe, pulling back and whispering once more. “Aani.

No rhyme nor reason for the name that was fluidly produced off her tongue, letting him kill it around as she pulled back away from him. Backing upwards with her hands slowly trailing off his head, down his muzzle, and off the tip of his nose. “Find me there, big boy. Maybe we will pick up where we left off.” Once she was far enough backed away from him, she blew him a little kiss, and winked at him. If he allowed her to leave, the woman would turn around to begin her saunter back into the darkness from once she came.

Pausing though, she smiled, wickedly, and let a little scuff follow with her statement. “We will see you, Wrath.We who?

He enjoyed her fingers working into the thick fur and over the solid musculature of his neck. He allowed it to happen until she revealed the truth of the matter.

She was Salsolan and Julia, or Shulia, never even existed. He was curious that she'd opted to tell him. Risky. But far less dangerous than letting him find out the information by himself. Sweeping her tongue across his ear didn't hurt, either. It rendered him distracted enough to allow her to retreat to a safe distance.

He wasn't going to end her life there and then. With this new information, she had become even more intriguing. And, although he hoped Salsola would accept him for the violent, murderous, anti-social being he was, he was smart enough to consider the implications of killing one of theirs just one day before visiting the Thistle Kingdom. 

Yes, with a name like that, he couldn't wait to place his paws upon their land once again.

He watched her blow a kiss and then fade into the darkness, confident their paths would intersect once more. Soon. He hoped.


OOC: Happy to end here, see you on the other side!

Hell is empty, and all the Devils are here...

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