Sharp (teeth)

the Rift

[PRIVATE] Sharp (teeth)

Knox Posts: 262

Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5

Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE

Jen

04-29-2016, 09:32 AM

knox

& Manhattan

Knox, too, is hungry.

It has been a long time since he has hunted, due to some faint vow made to a lover he once foolishly considered himself to have, but who is here to stop him now? Certainly not Aylin, who abandoned him as soon as their child shut his lips and the going got rough. Milo is of no use to him. Who is left then but ghosts of the past, almost all just as hungry as he?

The symptom of his disease is an inability to let go--a barrier stopping him from moving on. Her death is there, it is real, but her presence is just as tangible. Still she walks beside him some days, still she whispers to him as if over their bond. If Manhattan's memory wants to hunt, then so too does Knox.

But company halts him. He had thought that in the middle of a day so beautiful elsewhere other might not make the trek up to the heavenly fields atop the mountain. He had thought wrong, and now he is forced to witness not a field full of prey but just one lonely fool and his companion, entwined as a perfect object of jealousy. He stands far off and facing their backs, his cloak of light protecting him from prying eyes at first. He had hoped it would protect him from being detected by prey.

His lips curl indelicately, but he does all he can to maintain his silence. The snake's hunt is both fascinating and painful to watch, but likely not painful for the same reasons that it might be to the white unicorn. The twisting of his tail conveys discomfort that Knox does not share. This companion's actions are simply just more beautiful and feral than its bonded can appreciate.

With the frog safe in the snake's mouth (for Knox too respects the quiet needed for the kill,) he shrugs off his cloak and steps forward, making himself visible to the unicorn and his "They do make it look so tempting, don't they?" he says, the deep rumble of his voice coming from his own dark lips for once. His one good eye is trained on the snake, his other made to work only by magic appears as if it sees only silver and smoke.

"Talk."

when the pain starts…it is slow.

It tugs at him gently, the way that morning does after a particularly restful sleep. But then it grows deeper, and the tug becomes a pull,

then a shredding,

and it wrenches him from what he has come to know as reality—

—and into

something

darker.

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