[M] the devil made you look

Sirius Revlis · 03-26-2012, 02:13 AM

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Word Count: 3+

Sirius by Nat

Her head was snapped aside by the force of the blow, an open-handed punishment that sent spirals of pain across the man's palm and up his wounded arm. The pain was nothing akin to the sharp, bladed taste of bitterness that blossomed within him - Her failure was a reflection of his own failure, for what was she but for an example of him? He had schooled her so thoroughly, had spent so much energy perfecting her, that this disappointment was felt almost as shamefully as if it had been his own. The anger was poisonous, and fast to flow through his veins.

Her head was slower on its return, a gradual twist as she faced him once more. But there was no dull defeat within the girl's gaze, no acceptance of her punishment. The eyes that turned to glare at him were feline; The teeth that snarled at him were the Tigress'. He recognized her defiance instantly, and what harsh disappointment was left within him burst into flames of fury.

Black lips peeled back, revealing the serpent's yellowed fangs. That she had disobeyed him in allowing one of their own to be captured was one thing, worthy of shame and pain, but this challenge could not go so lightly chided. There was a danger to Salvia that could not be ignored, and deep beneath the writhing coils of his sudden rage was the knowledge that she needed to be put most thoroughly into her place, for this could be the only time that he held enough physical power to do so. Sirius was getting older - Not fast, nor soon, but older nonetheless. And while his power was still currently at it's height, his dominance needed to be asserted most firmly, most thoroughly, so that she would never again question it, not even when he was little more than a bag of old grizzled bones.

A snarl oozed from between his jaws, and it was truly a terrible sound. The King was little more than a beast, parading as a gentleman - She, before all others, knew this. Her actions had released the Hunter, and his wrath was primal, instinctual, and final. If she continued this path of betrayal, he would kill her in cold blood.

Muscles tensed and released, and his form lunged towards her own snarling one, hands and wickedly sharp claws extended. His goal was to use his barely-superior size to wrestle her to the ground, where fate would lie in her own reaction.

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