09-20-2017, 07:58 PM
a ghost in the darkness.
This forest is still new to him, he does not know it as intimately as the vampire woman did. In time, he will. He plans on staying for awhile. It was funny how things had worked out. She had seduced him, as if it was hard, and not long after Taiga had fallen. His stint in the common woods was short before he came to take this land, seizing it with a cold iron grasp. Now Sylva was his and his child was the first to be reborn into the lands. New life for them all.
It is by chance that he is in the right place at the right time. The smell of the Sylvan diplomat lingers, fresher then the rest of the ones that had left or been chased out. The memory of the brief tryst comes back to him, he follows the scent. As he gets closer to the cave, her scent hits him with a mix of metallic tang and other fluids. His muzzle wrinkles with distaste, he knows what that means. Another lingers within the cave, another scent he knows. Ears pin back to his skull as he enters the cavern.
There had only been a small handful of children that hadn’t disappointed him. If they were magical, they were treasured. If they weren’t then they had better make up in spades what they lacked. If they couldn’t do that, if they were that disappointing, then they would have been better off stillborn. The scene that greets him is an interesting one. Karaugh, worn out from the exertion of giving birth, with a colt by her side. Mortem stood leering not far. His dazzling red eyes take in the scene briefly before his cold voice echoes about the dark walls of rock. ”I believe that is mine…” A warning in his voice meant specifically for the other stallion. To watch himself and his bloodlust. At least until he had inspected the child first, if it would satisfy.
It is by chance that he is in the right place at the right time. The smell of the Sylvan diplomat lingers, fresher then the rest of the ones that had left or been chased out. The memory of the brief tryst comes back to him, he follows the scent. As he gets closer to the cave, her scent hits him with a mix of metallic tang and other fluids. His muzzle wrinkles with distaste, he knows what that means. Another lingers within the cave, another scent he knows. Ears pin back to his skull as he enters the cavern.
There had only been a small handful of children that hadn’t disappointed him. If they were magical, they were treasured. If they weren’t then they had better make up in spades what they lacked. If they couldn’t do that, if they were that disappointing, then they would have been better off stillborn. The scene that greets him is an interesting one. Karaugh, worn out from the exertion of giving birth, with a colt by her side. Mortem stood leering not far. His dazzling red eyes take in the scene briefly before his cold voice echoes about the dark walls of rock. ”I believe that is mine…” A warning in his voice meant specifically for the other stallion. To watch himself and his bloodlust. At least until he had inspected the child first, if it would satisfy.
Gryffen