Desire for blood

Alastor · (This post was last modified: 12-25-2020, 12:19 AM by Alastor.)

Alastor glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching, waving Lurid over to where he lay protecting Kichi. He happily relinquished his position around Kichi once she came over and wrapped herself around him in typical motherly fashion to shield him from the hurtful world. He had never seen Lurid in her element as a mother, but he had to admit that motherhood suited her well. She looked like she belonged there, protecting her child and comforting the pain away. The tenderness was so uncharacteristic from the Lurid he knew, but it was simply another dimension of her personality he hadn't seen yet. Kichi explained in one simple sentence what had happened. Kichi had gotten out of bed and tried to hunt an elk all on his own? Was he trying to score some revenge for what he believed happened to his birth parents? Alastor's brow knitted together, confusion in his obsidian eyes, then anger, then rage. Not at Kichi—not at the sweet little boy of his lover—but at the elk. How dare a prey animal think it could harm the boy without ramifications! Well, if Kichi wanted his revenge in blood, Alastor was going to help deliver.

Fixing Lurid with his murderous stare, he padded closer to lean in and go to plant a firm kiss on her forehead while she comforted her son. "Stay with Kichi. Take him home," he said with a low, rumbling growl building in his voice. He knew he could not command Lurid, but his words were given in strong suggestion, as he had murder on his mind. Alastor's nose twitched, picking up the scent of the elk as it veered off into the dark woods. Alastor's eyes narrowed as red crept into the edges of his vision. Heavy paws blasted off of the ground, beating against the earth while the dire brute launched through the trees with murder on his mind. Kichi wanted the elk dead. The elk would die. The elk must die. No one harmed his family, not so long as he drew breath. The scent trail was still fresh and was easy for the brute to follow. He was not concerned about the amount of noise his footfalls were making or about best hunting practices he was ignoring. This was not a hunt. This was going to be a slaughter. The scent got stronger. The elk had come this way and slowed down, probably thinking it was safe and far enough away from the small puppy it had tried to gore. It did not count on the mountain of muscle and fur now coming to rip it to shreds.

A silhouette appeared through the trees just ahead, a crown of antlers upon its skull. The scent trail led directly to it. That was his prey. A predatory growl erupted in the man's chest as he shot like a rocket directly at the elk, leaping over a fallen log and pouncing the elk all in one motion. The cervine had no time to react as the hulking black wolf lunged from the darkness, sharp white fangs appearing for a second before they sank into the flesh and muscle on the elk's neck. The prey animal released a primal cry of fear and pain, trying to kick and buck, but it was too late. Alastor threw his weight against the animal, knocking it off its stalky legs while keeping his teeth gripping tight to the flesh on the animal's neck, effectively bringing it down to the ground. Alastor snarled as he thrashed the animal, shaking it in his powerful jaws while it bellowed and bleated for help. The taste of fresh blood flooded Alastor's tastebuds, and the animal inside the man awoke once again. Pupils dilated in the silvery moonlight. Jaws crunched harder into the sinew of his hapless prey. One large paw came up to the elk's neck, digging his claws through the tender flesh until he felt thick cords, and then he ripped away with all his might.

The elk gave a guttural bellow as Alastor tore the animal's carotid right from its neck, thick spurts of blood spraying from the gashes in its throat. Every beat of the elk's heart pumped more and more blood out of its body, staining the earth with dark puddles of its life essence. Alastor released the elk with a primal growl, watching in dark delight as the animal scrambled to get to its legs and bound away, making it a few feet before stumbling into a tree, then collapsing to the ground from the sudden blood loss. Grinning like a maniac, Alastor sauntered over to the struggling elk, savoring the taste of its blood and the weakening cries it was making as it died slowly. He saw the wide, panicked look in its eyes as he drew nearer. It was afraid. Good. Alastor wanted it to feel the same helpless fear that Kichi had when it had tried to gore the boy. Once more, the elk struggled to its legs, staggering a couple of steps away before its legs gave out. By now, the dire wolf had drawn down on his victim, listening to its labored breathing while he licked his teeth clean of red stains. The elk gave one final loud bellow for help, and then Alastor bit down on the elk's throat, squeezing hard until he felt a pop of the creature's windpipe against his jaws. He didn't kill the animal instantly, instead letting to suffocate and choke on its own blood, tasting each spurt its failing heart pumped into his mouth automatically.

The elk's legs kicked weakly against the ground. Its head flopped to the side, tongue hanging from its mouth while doe-like eyes glazed over and clouded. The legs stopped moving. Its chest stopped rising and falling. The blood no longer spurted into his mouth, instead dribbling from the fatal wounds on its neck. For good measure, Alastor grabbed the elk's skull and twisted, feeling the vertebrae snap, then twisted it the opposite way to the same effect. He repeated his over and over, biting harder into the elk's neck until his jaws snapped closed and the elk's head was ripped forcefully from its corpse. There was no practical reason other than the animal inside demanding more blood and carnage. He had hunted and killed the elk out of pure vengeance, and now his bloodlust was satisfied.

As the adrenaline burned out in his veins and the heat of combat cooled off, Alastor began to regain some semblance of his tattered sanity. He blinked his coal eyes once, twice, then surveyed his work. A smile touched his face, tinted red from the gore. That would do... that would do... Oh, but he had to bring back something for Kichi! The boy had initiated his first hunt, and against the animal that had killed his parents, nonetheless! He deserved some sort of prize from the kill, something for him to remind himself that he had new "parents" looking out for him—wolves that would not fall as easily. But what...? Ah, that will do nicely...! he thought while his eyes passed over the rack of antlers atop the severed head. Alastor took the head in his paws again, holding it steady while he grabbed an antler by the base, twisting and yanking until he had ripped it from the skull. The long set of antler clutched securely in his grasp, Alastor turned, kicked the elk's decapitated head off into some bushes, and walked leisurely back to his family. He found them again back at the den, walking toward the tree, covered in blood and carrying his present for Kichi. If they didn't see or hear him, they would almost certainly smell him coming back.

"Speech" | Thoughts

Warning: Alastor is an explicitly mature character for violent and sexual content. Read his threads with caution.
As his mate, Manea may enter any of Alastor's threads not marked Private.
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