`` dark hearts

Static: it sizzled like white fire in his head, setting everything aflame in a bright conflagration. It raged, a brilliant lightning cracking like a violent whip in his veins, in his very lungs urging him forward with the vicious desire of lust long denied. He could not hold it back anymore -- everything had become white: that beautiful white on white on white, bleached as pure as cracked bone spilling out of broken flesh. He was white, so white, so bright, even in the shadows of this hell, his hell. He smiled, fangs dripped red where they unsheathed themselves from his mouth. Long and thick, a cruel line of his maw as he looked down at those horrified eyes that stared up at him. He did not understand the terror in their eyes; he did not understand the fear, but it was what he sought, night after night -- that dark little glimpse of life that he was missing, that the void had devoured long ago.

The little caracal had struggled underneath his weight, had tried to scream, to fight, but it had only egged him on, forced the snow leopard to use a particular set of vicious skills he had in his repertoire. Her little claws were gone, plucked out so carefully with his fangs; her tongue long gone, and though terror screamed from her eyes, it was a distant echo now, so long after it's removal. Blood was thick and hot in his mouth -- it was his entire world: the look in her eye, the sound of white noise that buzzed like bees in his ears. The real world had dimmed, and all he was aware of was this delicious thing below him; his smile widened as his paw reached out, claws extended to touch the poor trembling creature on the forehead. His paw was almost enough to eclipse her entire head -- but it wasn't her head he wanted. He wanted those eyes. He wanted to see if the emotion, if her very life still gathered behind the eyes, or if, much like his own, once it was removed everything was destroyed. Though she moaned, she was too far gone to even flinch as his claws dug into her socket and dug out the precious little jewel. Too much pressure accidentally crushed her skull beneath the wide, fat pad of his paw. He chuffed, ears flicking down against his skull as life fled her flesh like a bird finding light.

Tail lashing, the nameless, handless, worthless creature lowered his head in the oncoming silence and feasted, feeling the vicious throbbing thunder inside of his very veins ease back at the touch of real blood in his mouth. The stone in his eye socket glistened, flashing between it's colors as was it's wont, not quite at the next level but so close the world seemed to tremble. This terrible monster didn't need power to be a frightening thing of shadows; he was the epitome of pestilence, carrying around the sin of the world on his shoulders with the ease of emotionless satisfied. Even now, with flesh in his system, he knew he had not quite found the source of his agitation. It still rattled, though he gorged.

Ripping the caracal's stone from her neck, he took the measly thing in his mouth and turned from the disaster in the alley and moved back toward the sound of life -- even as he moved, his tiny world was spinning. The magic was folding away even as he came up toward the crowded street, all of that bleached white fading away to reveal the feral shrieks of stretched, garish rosettes, the dark black stain of his sins etched in shadows and filth. He was a creature of scars, stinking of old and recent death -- and even as the magic faded, so too did the madness begin to return with a different face, a different voice, crooning so softly in his ear. Placing the stone on the floor he remained on the very edges of that bright world, near the stench of prostitution and curled his haunches beneath him, tail lying haphazard.

{Will you eat the entire world?} she crooned, her voice like a lash against his flesh, quickening his pulse as if she were breathing down his neck. Yes, this was the world he lived in: caught between day and night, caught between life and death. Purposeless, an existence that had been erased over and over and over again, but much like everything unwanted, he constantly found himself still alive, still breathing. Still here. Alive, perhaps, but not alive.

He faced a world of death, and this weapon that had been tossed aside so haphazardly had begun to find a new way to fill his time. Briefly he thought of his Goddess, of her bright, brilliant eyes, and her own flavor of darkness -- he thought of her, wanted to be near her, to feel the chains of her dominance dig into his flesh, to be handled thoughtlessly, effortlessly as she did. He thought of all of that power that coiled like something delicious beneath her skin, and wondered what she tasted like. {She will never save you}

Shoulders tight with tension, the nameless snow leopard lifted his paw, his tongue flicking out and cleaning the blood from his claws, even as his hackles rose to a standing point. There was an abyss inside of him, a dark, living thing that she had put there with each careful act of cruelty, beating out of him the ability to hope. He did not fear the dark, or the darkest things - and he knew, knew better than this spiteful ghost, that nothing could ever save him. He knew, more than most, that he was simply ticking away until the time he exploded and death finally claimed his wretchedness for his own.

But till that time...He chuffed, running his tongue between his toes. Until that time, if the Goddess needed him, then he would be there. He moved out into the street just as a light toying wind brought with it the faint scent he had been secretly hoping to catch. Goddess. His head whipped around, ears perked, only to find that the source of that light scent was buried amongst the pheromones of a large, hulking lion. The nameless, discarded weapon, merely stared, his tail lashing in the air like thick, brutal rope.

{She'll leave you, too}

word count || 1082

tags || Cadoc Katsaros

OOC || Hope ya don't mind!