AND IT'S EVIL AND IT'S DAUNTING
In the shadows and caves of Nerine he often crept. Hidden from view, curious, seething, unstable.
It was the monster that changed him, beneath the naked moon and the twinkling stars. He was pale white, pink-eyed, stark against the shadows but still perhaps one of the most dangerous predators in Beqanna. A creature to the core, wild-eyed and hungry, he still sought the sky and her release.
Fierte isn't a monster. Not a monster, not a monster. Fierte isn't a monster, no, but he certainly loses himself. Beneath the white moon and her twinkling stars. He loses himself.
Not a monster.
It's the nature of his blood to seek death. And he often does. From screaming mothers to chittering squirrels, the scales around Fierte's mouth and hooves are typically dyed some shade of pink. When he comes to, he tries to wash the filth from his skin. The pink never leaves, though. In the reflection of babbling brooks and calm puddles, he sees a monster.
Not a monster.
Beneath a moon the same glowing pale as his hide, Fierte wanders, half a mind human and half a mind feral. Growls roll and writhe in the back of his throat, the constant battle of instinct versus morality. Beneath the moon he can't resist is where he finds her, all stars and glory and unlike any predator or prey he's ever seen.
"What are you?" he rasps, roiling eyes hungrily passing over her, "An angel?"
@[altar] :-)