there is but one rule
hunt or be hunted
hunt or be hunted
| As she bolts past him, he lingers behind. “One...” “Two...” He shouts within the silence that fills the field. The hound counted down slowly, letting the anticipation grow as she attempted her get away. She would not go far, he knew. “Three!” The dark beast turns around swiftly on his paws. His hooded gaze quickly searches across the snow plastered field, quickly following the trail of hooves she leaves behind. The prints in the snow clearly show the tumbling and falling of the black mare. She then calls out in distress. It echoes across the field. It fills his ears. It fills him with exhilaration. “Here I come!” He yells back, answering her distress call for help. The adrenaline fills him quickly. It sends his body shaking, his muscles tightening. He pushes off his limbs and follows the trail of the mare across the field. Each paw is grounded carefully into the snow-covered field, but lifted carefully and precisely as moves forward. He lets out a loud howl. Her scent fills him now. Motivating him to gain a quicker speed. Every second the scent becomes stronger, he becomes drunk with it. The hunt enlightens him, taking control of him. The intuition of the dance between predator and prey takes over him. Sinner is gaining speed on her, getting closer to the black mare as she stumbles and falls. Her body is clearly failing her, but he enjoys watching her struggle. A part of her is determined, he can see the way she urges herself forward. There is a high hope within her, but he knows that each time she stumbles that hope will fall away. Her breathing is becoming heavier. He can hear her inhales and exhales. “You poor, poor thing,” He shouts at her, letting her know just how close he was to her. Then, she stops. Unable to move now. The beast slows down, prowling forward on black paws towards her. Saliva escapes the corners of his jawline, inhaling the scent of the black mare that lays only a few feet away from him now. The black mare then turns to him—facing her ending. “Is that really all you got?” He shakes his dark, furred head at her. “You disappoint me,” Sinner’s tone clearly shows his frustration at the attempt she has given to make a getaway. “You really do.” He shakes his head again, looking down at his paws for a moment. Lifting his dark hooded gaze back to her, his eyes light up with passion. His eyes glow with bright red-yellowish hue now. “What will it be, love? A slow or quick death?” He would prefer a slow and painful death, but the weak mare would hardly last if anything. His smirk grows slowly as he waits for her answer. “Don’t keep me waiting. You know I won’t make it easy for you if I have to choose.” |
Sinner
the king of sylva
@[Anninux]
Profile | Detailed Bio | Character Reference
Most likely always in his hellhound form