Solitude cloaked him, the night whispering seductions within listening ears. Cool fingers traced loving patterns through the man's dark pelt; claiming him as a lover might. He was born of the wickedness of this night-time temptress, a creature spawned from the loins of a mad prince, a King to rule a long line of Kings. He was Narcissus; Arrogant and vain, merciless in his pursuit of beauty and perfection. His people loved and loathed him, with the keen blade of manipulation carving their loyalties out of stone. He was the puppeteer - The man behind the orchestra, the creator of a cacophony of chaos, complex and infinitely beautiful to eyes of acid green.
He was the peacock monarch, and his reptilian heart was adorned with a crown of thistle and thorn.
The cool night air soothed the manic beat of his mind, a mechanical genius that bordered frequently on the edge of the madness his father had claimed. So sharp was that mind, so constantly in motion, that solitude such as this was needed for it's repair - Else, undoubtedly, it would have been run to ruins a long time ago. Sirius wandered without purpose, allowing the thoughts within his mind to align themselves to various piles, to neaten themselves in an array of categorical storage, on which to dwell at a later time. Plots and plans, schemes and studies, all manner of thoughts that whizzed mercilessly through the chambers of the King's wicked mind were allowed, gradually, to rest into stillness. Still his paws carried him, and without conscious effort they were the paws of a beast, a creature changed into his most frightening shape.
His Secui form was indeed a beastly sight - The lean, angular handsomeness that usually adorned his features was warped into hellish nightmare. Thick, dark fur spilled over a hugely tall form that appeared, in the brittle half-light, to be almost emaciated. Ribs protruded, hip-bones pronounced; Snaggle-teeth grown longer till yellowed sabers peeked over a tufted chin. Large, sharp ears lifted to a cry in the distance; Unhindered by his mind, the predator loved into an effortless, silent lope, the smoothness of the action hindered only by a slight favoring of one fore-leg, where a deep gash had yet to fully heal over and remained as an angry reddened scar.
The scent of blood filled his lungs as he neared the source of the cry, and the beast's black lips quivered over his yellow fangs. Glittering, poisonous eyes glowed from the shadows, parting to allow him to emerge into the scene. A girl was spilled across the hard ground; His long nails clicked on the pavement as the Hunter approached. Narrowed pupils drank in her form, hungrily; Seeking the blood that ran in a small inky rivulet down her pale arm. "Little princess," Came the hiss of the serpent, a voice that oozed with venom and charm, alluring and deadly in it's own right, "Little princess, why did you cry?" The beast lurked beyond the circle made by her dress, where shadows could still cling to his dark pelt.
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