Libri is slow too, badadadaaa~~~;____; There's some pp here -- let me know if you want it changed!
He’d gone mad with his thirst while alive, and now it was all he was. Yet, dead and borrowed teeth didn’t leap to puncture the flesh he knew to be soft and moist. His seeing eye had found hers and did not stray – watched her mind work behind the loveliness of her similarly coloured eyes. Such a pristine little thing, she was, yet darkness was known to have the power even to infest light itself. She still lived, and he did not know why. Haku was easily fascinated by the shades of darkness he sporadically came upon, but her hues weren’t splendid. A prey she was; a meal so relish.
She agreed, turning her smile serious. Although he was dead, another man’s heart beat within its meaty prison; beckoning and warm with life it no longer served. Her blood thrilled senses and let the shadow creatures out to play. To possess such madness was beautiful, but instead of playing her part, the white woman would seem to become an obstacle. It would be the easiest thing in the world to end her, yet still refrained to bite the hand that fed. Torment was often a wonderful appetizer, but he had already been poisoning her life for some time now. They all wore down and broke in the end, but she resisted him still. He like that.
His focus was renewed as she moved with light touch again; going against the gravity of reason. Why would the red hooded girl pet such a sharp toothed creature without fear? The man’s own hand rose to grasp that soft pale wrist of hers, seemingly gently, though the sharp points of his claws tempted the elasticity of the soft skin beneath light cream strands of fur. He had almost forgotten how it felt to touch another living creature while attached to a physical body. Life and death were two very similar things, though vividly different. He longed for her soul, yes, but eternity was a long time, and he loathed being unnecessarily wasteful.
”Why indeed…” the madman smiled as he wondered when her composure would crack. They had all been the same, in the end. Why should the Dawnbringer be any different? He pulled at the wrist he had caught – slowly reeling in his willing captive. ”Perhaps you think you’re brave,” the man vocally wondered, allowing dark-clawed fingers to twist and puncture her lovely skin. Red blossoms were most beautiful as they bloomed through white. "Perhaps you think you're safe," though there would be no one to save her this time. What would she do then?
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