— I'm not here looking for absolution —
Stave is no stranger to boredom, although he usually finds creative ways to keep it at bay.
There are plenty of small creatures that scuttle around the kingdom for him to practice on, learning what it means to let his gift sink into their flesh and touch the very core of their life force. It is an interesting thing to drain it slowly from them—to feel it seep out their bones and to know that he can do so with just a thought, with the barest flex of muscle. He does not need to move an inch to see the shadows begin to seep into their eyes and to know that he was the one who did that—he was the creator and destructor.
Today though, he looks for larger prey.
He finds himself skirting the shadows, his black eyes depthless, watching the barren land and the life that has just begun to spring forward from its cracked, undead soil. His lips nearly quirk into a smile, and they would if he could feel any kind of emotion that would warrant it. Instead, it is a crocodile smile, wide and empty and cold, his white teeth flashing as he sees the venomous mare out of the corner of his eye.
Stave has never practiced his gift on an animal as large as him, but he sees no line in the sand that he would not cross—not even for someone who calls his home their own. Instead, he stands there, still but not hidden, bold and brazen as he feels the tendril of his power begin to seep forward. It crawls over the rock and the dirt, faster and faster until it reaches her. He snakes it up her legs and then dips it into her chest, finding that same core he had found in the small animals and holding her life force in his palm.
And then, with gusto, he begins to squeeze.
