04-25-2008, 12:59 AM
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Crouching at the base of a tree, smirk graced thin lips as creature watched, fixated on the little arachnid at work in the leaves of a bush. Delicate legs moved at a quick pace, spinning threads of gossamer lace into a pattern thrust between the branches. Own body swayed faintly, following the barely noticeable motions of the web in the gentlest of breezes, reaching toward the insect with clawed fingers. "Here little spider, spider," he said crooned softly, nails breaking the invisible threads to cup the spider within the cage formed by his hand. Pulling away, he fell back onto the ground, muzzle moving between his fingers to peer at the little arachnid he'd captured.
Stroking one thin leg, he watched as it attempted to scurry away across his hand, moving quickly across his palm and up his wrist. "No," he pouted, fangs baring faintly as he pushed it back into his hand. But it continued to race away, pausing only a moment to recoil into itself with it's eight legs wrapped it for protection against his touch. "Fine," Samael uttered darkly, slamming his hand against the bark of the tree and smashing the spider beneath his palm. "You deserved that," he growled faintly, wrinkling his muzzle in disgust.
Brushing his hand off, the prince fell back against the forest floor, black-and-blonde streaked hair falling around his features as he peered up through the branches at the sky. "But I deserve better," he mused under his breath, crossing his arms across his chest. He was sick of things the way they were. Sick of his longings and the plague that ate away at his soul. Sick of his sickness at the way it clawed at his insides incessantly.
Stroking one thin leg, he watched as it attempted to scurry away across his hand, moving quickly across his palm and up his wrist. "No," he pouted, fangs baring faintly as he pushed it back into his hand. But it continued to race away, pausing only a moment to recoil into itself with it's eight legs wrapped it for protection against his touch. "Fine," Samael uttered darkly, slamming his hand against the bark of the tree and smashing the spider beneath his palm. "You deserved that," he growled faintly, wrinkling his muzzle in disgust.
Brushing his hand off, the prince fell back against the forest floor, black-and-blonde streaked hair falling around his features as he peered up through the branches at the sky. "But I deserve better," he mused under his breath, crossing his arms across his chest. He was sick of things the way they were. Sick of his longings and the plague that ate away at his soul. Sick of his sickness at the way it clawed at his insides incessantly.