my shadow's shedding skin ...
It is only a little at first. Bits of shadow leeching up through the soil, stinking faintly of sulfur. It seeps across the earth, weaving through broken pieces of sandstone and sparse, trodden vegetation. One thread joins another; here, another union. Drawn to the seething anger like a shark to blood in the water, the darkness gathers and pools near the navy-striped stallion. When it hits some invisible boundary, it starts to build on itself, finally spinning together to reveal the lanky demon and his faithful hellhound. Hellfire smolders in the hollow depths of molten eyes, his unmarked skin so black it swallows light.
His eyes flick to Anaxarete. He tilts his head, the barest of inclines, neck muscles taut and prominent underneath his shorn mane. The mother of aliens, many a monster has sprung from the shadow-queen’s loins. He, Niklas, is no exception and he finds in this life more so than any other that he has lived, he is inexplicably tethered to her. His tongue, just as black as the rest of him, rasps along lips cracked and bloodied by the heat of the underworld. The body she had borne him into was, admittedly, not perfectly suited for his preferred haunts, but, he makes do. A flaked bit of skin snags between his teeth. Just then, the ragged hellhound at his side lurches forward, snatching up some unfortunate bit of prey. The small life extinguished draws Niklas’ attention for a breath before the stallion's anger coaxes him back like a petulant lover.