[open] like water flowing into lungs - any

[Sinner]

there is but one rule
hunt or be hunted

Hungry. It groans within him. The familiar voice that calls him to the hunt. The addiction of the adrenaline he feels every time he chases the kill. The taste of teeth biting through flesh and bones breaking with every crunch is a drug. But he hungers for more. He hungers for things he does not yet have. Things that should be the dark hound’s long ago. But he must be patient. Time would give him what he wanted. Time was running thin though. The hellhound escapes the comfort and confined space of the autumn kingdom. Leaving behind the thoughts of ruling and the crown. It is the hunt that only crosses his though. The voice within him begging him, dragging him into the wild. He thirsts more and more for the taste these days. Reliving his old days when he had left Pangea, leaving behind the childhood he had with his parents. The wild was all he had known at one point. The freedom it had given him, the strength it had formed him to be. The darkness made him, but the wild molded him even more. The shadows had once been his master. A salve to the darkness and the wielders of evil. But he had made his own path eventually. Becoming his very own master that should have always been in the beginning. He may have come as an omen to his father, Rodrik, but he was more than a warning. He was the beginning of a reckoning. From the shadows, he lurks, concealing himself. His red-yellow glowing eyes peer from the darkness, taking in the familiarity of the meadow. A place he often found his prey. He licks his lips lightly at that thought. There was bound to be something here to get a good fight out of… But something catches his eyes—the gleaming of the afternoon sun mixed with swirling shadows. The dark beast catches the dark dapple mare, who recently revealed herself into the light. He would have thought nothing of it, but something intrigues his interest. Perhaps it was the darkness of souls that draws him to her—a kinship of some sort of darkness. He steps from the shadows, prowling forward towards the dapple mare. The hound does not hide himself like he does when he hunts. Not that this mare, wielder of shadows, gave any note of not being able to fend him off. “Afternoon,” he says when reaching the mare in closer range. His ears flick forward as a canine smirk lifts up on his hard-chiseled features.

Sinner

the king of sylva

character info: here | character reference: here
Currently in his hellhound form.
@[Anaxarete] AHHH! I had to come see Ana! So good to see you back! <3