we scream our very souls free
Haunt had been born a nearly perfect predator. Of course, this assumes Haunt had the will for such predation. Perhaps it does linger deep inside the creature. A beast waiting for it’s perfect time to rise. But, fortunately, Haunt had not been raised to heed such things. They had never been taught to hunt or kill. Never been taught the full extent of their abilities. It would have been an easy path to tumble down, had Haunt’s parents been of a different ilk.
And maybe it is as equally unfortunate as it is fortunate, the depth of that untapped potential.
Of course, at the moment, that is neither here nor there. Haunt had not tried particularly hard to remain unnoticed. Despite the lack of scent or sound, doubtless the unusual ways in which the shadows seem to cling to Haunt were a dead giveaway. Especially in the presence of such unusual and intriguing vibrance.
Yellow eyes blink as the shadows shift unnaturally. Shadows that were, in fact, Haunt. A brief gleam of teeth is the only indication of the fleeting, delighted smile that crosses dark lips. In a swift, unexpected movement, Haunt flits forward, closing the distance between one blink and the next. Though they do not come close enough for that bright skin to burn, they flirt with the edges of danger.
“Are you scared, pretty lady?” Haunt asks, voice low and breathy, as though imparting something of great import. “Or is it that you didn’t know shadow’s speak?” Suddenly, Haunt grins, eyes bright in the vague shape of their form. “Be careful who you whisper your secrets to, hmm?”
