Pounding the gears
There were victims among the herds. They just didn't know it yet. The wolf was calculating, plotting, deciphering a pattern as he watched so contently by the wayside. The image he had painted on his face was one of bliss with perhaps a hint of, was that cheer? It appeared that as so. The wolf was brewing up quite the different story on the inside. Funny how a mask could hind all the horror, all the gore. The orchard would be red if he only could have his way. Alas, without the aide of another, he was stuck watching and waiting for the illest, lamest prey he could spot.
Valkorion's concentration was pulled in a new direction. His head moved slowly, his eyes remaining on the herd for a moment longer, his lids narrowing as he held onto the image just a second more. When he finally relinquished his gaze he wasn't disappointed. My, my, my, someone must have heard my hunger. He mused. "Good afternoon," handsome. That almost slipped out. Careful, careful, careful, Valkorion. You can't let your flattery show too early. "Tell me, what do you find more satisfying, fermented fruit, or warm meat?" he posed the stranger a question. If he was honest with himself, he hopped the man said both. A little beer with your meal was never a bad decision.
While he waited for the answer he took note of the brute in front of him. He looked fit, healthy, and of course easy on the eyes. Something about a monochromatic man with toned edges brought a flutter to Valkorion's heart. The polar opposite was true when it came to the female sex. Those porcelain dainty women brought the devil out in him. Something about the purity they visually (and more often than not, actually) represented sent cravings throughout his body.
Little sparks of electricity sizzled through the air and alluring eyes settled upon their new quarry. "Let the darkness sleep"
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