M - daydream milk and genocide.

Haku Soul · 05-08-2010, 11:43 AM

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She remained passive, and the beast was not clear on what he thought about that. Sometimes they trashed and screamed. Sometimes they clung to him and whispered soft words about things he would never be. Once upon a time he had been a man not too different from most, but time had blasted away whatever had made him one of them. Today he was one of a kind and knew they all believed him to be a monster. They were right—so very right when their angry voices rose and called him those cursed names. Hatred made him strong – hatred was the very essence of his being. He had enjoyed Kaena immensely because she had provided him with everything he could ever desire—except for her soul. He had let her keep it for a prolonged time as a sign of his kindness, but Kaena refused to watch the truth in the eye. It was just a matter of time before the scarred woman’s body would turn cold like the still body under the two wolves now. Inhaling the thick scent of the younger Lykoi, dark eyelids continued to shut the world out, pondering about the options. The woman had failed and even dared to offer him an empty heart. It was blasphemy – but she did not understand. He knew worth when he saw it and was torn between the obvious choices.

Hands; one still cream in colour; one stained red slid along the soft fur on her side and around her lower back. Slowly, he lifted the woman a few inches up from the ground and bended lightly, returning her to the ground where she moments earlier had been thrown by those same hands now placing her softly down on blood stained grass. He loomed over her, tilting his head and knew that he wanted to know more about this woman. Insanity was sweet and could take him away on black, stained wings where only blood and death mattered, but the creature was of the more intelligent kind and did not completely the world around it. Religion and the names of evils. He had heard names of his older brothers in the past; searched through the lore to find their paths through history and their current location. Could it be that he was the last of the pure to walk this earth? He did not wish it to be so – it was still too rich to be abandoned by the princes of the dark. The blue eyed demon loomed over the dark female, smearing her own, dark blood across her muzzle.

Such a pity the black absorbed the lovely red colour. He leaned in then, letting his tongue wash across her blood stained muzzle tenderly, tasting her.

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