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= The Hunger of a Beast = The elven brigand camp had entertained him for hours. After slaking his thirst on the first dozen or so that he came across, the remainder of the camp denizens became playthings, toys, to be broken. He laid back on the sofa, savoring the memory of the camp leader's tirade that alternated between crying, begging and hysterical screaming as he was vivisected. The windchimes Dealthagar had crafted from his bones tinkled merrily in the evening Umbran breeze. He stared at the watercolor of the violet eyes that hung on the wall of his sitting room. it had taken him hours to perfect the tone and depth of the color. He had been taken with them. The fact they matched his own was a bit of novelty, but her half-elven blood could account for much of it. Still, it didn't take away from her beauty. She had been a marvel to paint. Her heritage would have indicated softness, but that was far from the truth. Her pale skin covered a weapon, taut and hard. She was a predator, toned and muscled, ready to pounce at a moments notice. Gooseflesh raised as he imagined her hunting. Light on her toes, stalking, circling; her prey frozen with fear, it's fate never in doubt. She said he intrigued her. Enough for her to venture close to Umbra. Enough for her to venture into the home of the Herald of Oblivion. Most people would have assumed it was a prelude to death, or at least incarceration for one with her history. He smiled. Her scent still clung to the sofa. He had laid with his head in her lap, enjoying the closeness. He had warned her how forward he was, how he took liberties, how he was a beast. She could have forced him away, or gotten up, but to his delight, she played with his hair, and enjoyed the moment with him. He hoped she was a curious type, and his hopes were fruitful. He understood the extacy of his gift. There was a reason he was drawn to the dead, and why they were drawn to him. It was delicious, comforting, sensual, personal... And for all she felt, how could he you explain, how could she possibly understand or know, she was touching his very essence, his very soul. ...and that the "taste" went both ways... An icy shivver ran down his spine. She was thinking of him. Was it because he was thinking of her? Could she feel his thoughts? His desires? It was fanciful to imagine, but that was not the way of Entropy. Oblivion wanted the universe devoured. It would happen, eventually. Why hasten destruction? It was better to enjoy the now. To enjoy her. He wanted to suck her in, to draw her to him, to taste her again. His heart began to burn. The desire to hunt was upon him again. Blood and flesh would not be enough to feed his Beast. The sun would set soon, and could leave his sanctum. The time to hunt her was at hand. --- Original Post Date: Fri Dec 11, 2009 [[Category:Legends and Tales]]

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