TRASHED AND SCATTERED [M]

Gargoyle watched the male slowly growing more and more unnerved. How quickly the poise and control of the young bloodluster unraveled. Gargoyle flicked an ear dismissively. He hadn't even been that green at the brute's age. But in the end, after much lashing of the tail and showing of the teeth, Gargoyle got his answer. Creedance Voltaire. Eh, he'd never liked second names, too braggy. He'd stick to calling the male by his first, during what brief time the creature had left on the earth. "-Who in the he-- are you?" Gargoyle heard him say.

"I shall answer the first question you give me," the dark male murmured. Gargoyle had been asked what had brought him out here on this night which southerns would call chilly, well now the Chief was ready to answer. "I am here, Creedance," he rumbled, "to kill you." No fuss. No curses. No petty displays of anger at how unfair the world was. Just calm, cool purpose - the exact opposite of the unpredictable, youthful flame that seemed to fuel the sinister rogue. Gargoyle collected his feet beneath him calmly, straightening up to his full height. "For now I'll let you enjoy the mystery of which of your sins it was that brought me here, but don't worry, I'll let you know just before I allow you to die." The Timber cross's defenses were already marshaled. Should the younger male give further proof to his rashness, Gargoyle would be more than ready to get things started, but again, he was in no rush. The moon had not yet lifted itself to it's highest perch, and they had all night to kill eachother. He wanted to see how this male reacted to the only too obvious consequences to his actions. From a detached corner of his mind, Gargoyle was curious as to what sort of murders roamed the world these days. Would this one prove to be some twisted titan, endowed with twisted abilities and morbid sense of purpose? Or was he just a brat who liked to watch things bleed?