He's so fast, so terribly fast. Impossibly fast. Faster than Cressida could ever hope to outrun. He knows it, too. Knows that those slender legs of hers won't get her very far. That eventually the devil catches them all and isn't he just the perfect embodiment of a devil, here beneath the moon - here burbling with more magic and power than he ever thought possible. The heart in his chest pounds with the possibilities, with how her pitch-black body gets closer and closer as he chases.
"Darkling!" Draco screams, throwing his head back and following the yell with hearty laughter. Around him shadows twist and warp, much like the ones his father wields. He turns his head only slightly, surprised to see the darkness mimic his speed and mood. Is it power like the scales, the fangs, the ripping flesh? The demon can feel it thrumming inside of him much like the adrenaline howling in his ears. He doesn't know how to control it, not yet, but it begs to be used. Draco heaves, feeling the weight, feeling the hounds of hell nip at his heels and urge him faster, faster, faster -
The demon draws abreast with the pitch-black doe but doesn't turn to look at her. Instead, he focuses on weaving and yielding to the branches, not quite as agile as his prey - but certainly strong enough and stupid enough to not feel the pain when he slips up.
"You didn't have to run!" Draco calls with a cackle, curving around in the hopes to stop the doe in her tracks. "You silly creature, you didn't have to run!" He feels his new power curl up his legs, shadows swirling and spiraling, rushing forward at the deer in an attempt to trap her. The strength makes him feel like a predator, stirs up some instinct in him that wasn't natural before he transformed (and certainly isn't natural now, some implant of Hell, some bloody fear).
Draco stands still, thinning white tail flicking with agitation. He can hear her thoughts just enough to know she is no simple deer - no, she is full of complex, sorrowful thought.
"I don't want to hurt you."
@[cressida]
