i’ve been both a saint & a viper
Following Sabra proves easy, but he cannot help but notice that the near-blinding pain in his head only intensifies with each pulse of her light, her figure staggered as the illumination plays tricks on his eyes, making time appear to move slower.
The sounds in the forest are much more alive with the coming of the eclipse and its endless night. It does not occur to him yet that others can actually hear the movements of the creatures within the shadows and when a cry echoes through the forest, there is a soft recognition in his nearly-black face as Sabra turns her head towards it, as well as the filly. The sound is dismissed, however, whether it is real or induced by the demons of his (or her) mind.
He had put his failure in the Alliance solely on himself, let it fester in his chest as rage and it now blooms in the darkness that crawls across him, the hunger that ravages him. At Sabra’s comment, however, he becomes thoughtful. It seems promising and he finds his mouth watering at the mention of sacrifices and the idea of more. Something in him balks at the idea, finding it grotesque that it would please him in such a vile way. But something else, something darker and stronger, presses into the idea without a thought.
Balto’s crystalline eyes click to the girl at Sabra’s side, hungry and nearly black.
The intense stare is broken when Sabra’s mouth finds his cheek, drawing him from the girl and bringing his attention to her lovely opaline face. The scent of her is illuminating - rich and intoxicating, far more so than the young child he had been eyeing. The stallion swallows hard the incessant hunger, trying to focus on anything but the temptation to slice their skin to drink straight from their veins.
“Jamie, the victor.” comes Balto’s breathless reply, his voice tight; rigid as his body as Sabra keeps close to him. He pauses, remembering the brief time after their battle they spent in the forest, before returning to Sylva and its Queen. “He wields the power of a magician now, in Pangea.” Her touch makes his skin tremble, but his voice remains unwavering. “And a woman,” he says, suddenly thoughtful, “from Tephra. A fair opponent, but useless - just as any of her offspring will be.”
His gaze flickers down to the child, appearing emotionless but inwardly fighting the urge to lunge at her to tear at her throat. The thought makes his stomach churn for a moment, but then it is replaced by such a blind hunger that he does not find himself repulsed by the idea of the action. Hesitantly, as if unsure, his weight shifts towards her - still close to Sabra where their embrace does not break.
Balto
@[Sabra]