i’ve been both a saint & a viper
The dark creature watches the reptilian beast with patient, burning eyes. His gaze drifts between her slitted eyes and the blood that pours from between her massive claws, hunger gnawing at the pits of his stomach. He swallows hard as she ingests huge portions of meat, lowering his head a bit more as he continues his casual walk towards the predator. The sun falls against the barely sprouted tangle of antlers, sharp and twisted like branches across his face.
Her voice falls clearly through the air and Balto’s movement ceases. All whispers have fallen silent (uninterested in such a conversation where it is so obvious that he would not be able to draw blood) and he is alone in his thoughts with this dragon, stained in blood.
“Yes,” he manages, his voice low and harsh with disuse. For a moment of tense silence, Balto’s lungs rattle with a few inhales and exhales. He understands nothing of his desire for blood and sinew, only the instinctual need to investigate the smell of death that has permeated the entire riverlands. “I am no thief,” Balto reassures the dragon, though the sour feeling in his stomach would be able to convince him otherwise. His hunger grows and with the inability to die, he will soon have to face the morbid reality that he is more predator than he truly believes.
Balto’s icy blue eyes fall back to the stag that is now unrecognizable - a mass of blood-stained and cracked bones, bits of fur and seemingly brittle antlers compared to the teeth and claws of the dragoness.
Balto
@Locheed