Bite—

Bite my little friends, bite bite bite bite—

He was Death's pale horse: cold and cruel, a sharp-fanged hunter in the darkness. His breath was fire and his gaze was ice, liquid darkness thrumming through his veins. He was Everything, judge and jury, executioner—

—God.

(Power-drunk.)

He could do anything to her; she was almost on her knees, the echo of her shriek the memory of music in his ears. The cold starlight touched her scabbed knees, blood leaking out. The night smelled of it, salt and iron, the physical embodiment of his grief—

She staggered up again, eyes as white as the moon—his mouth was half-open, breathing ragged, something wild and hot making his gut tighten and skin tingle—

He had wanted her to chase him, to ravage him, to make him scream through the dark trees, but in a single moment the roles had reversed—and she was the one who had screamed, at his mercy. She had given him everything. She was his.

The darkness in his veins thrummed a little faster, its cold, cold voice whispering take it all.

(But the sun always has to rise.)

Only a few seconds had passed.

"Nyx?" he breathed, and the pulse in his flank turned from maddened joy to sickening worry, guilt and shame, the throb of his pinched skin spelling out the nauseating dread as he let go of the magic. "Oh god, Nyx, pl—FUCK!"

The roar tore itself out of his throat as the owls spied the streak of white; the beast crashed out of the bushes, anger blazing in his eyes, and Mauja didn't have the time to think.

With a grunt he threw himself on his forehand, hind legs shooting out right in the direction of the oncoming assailant; the power of Dominus met the power of Mauja's hindquarters, claws raking up red lines in the white perfection (shit shit shit) but the angles were all wrong, his teeth scrabbling at the skin of his cannons but finding little purchase. The ribbon-pattern of red tore at his fraying mind, the sharp heat no longer charged with exhilaration—he just felt sick, with all of it, of all of it, the memory pounding sharply in his brain—

—this is why I don't fight friendlies—

—because all he knows is how to kill.

Large hind feet returned to earth, skidding on the treacherous footing as he scampered a few steps away—the moon gave the blood a silver edge that did nothing to soothe fire raging through his flesh.

I fucking hate pain.

I fucking hate everything.

The battle had lost its romantic air, and Mauja's ears fled, uncertainly, into the white mess of his mane. What was he supposed to do now? Keep battering Nyx? It seemed.. wrong, somehow, so with his head high and eyes blazing he waited for them to act.

[ 2/3 || @Nyx || 480 words ]
No it's a perfectly normal RP trait... xD

lord, the demands you're making-
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .