Crucifiction

Heterochromatic pools of amethyst and emerald became fixed on the pile of fur at his feet, entranced by the way its ribcage expanded and flattened with each breath it took. The movement was shallow, and almost undetectable to the naked eye. But Sephiran was so enveloped by the eminence of death that he was able to count the breaths it took in one minute. 12… 8… 5. As time ticked on, its respiratory effort decreased, along with the yowls that had morphed into soft whimpers. The pool of blood was growing in diameter, encompassing the body and seeping toward his paws. At the moment of contact with his toes, the initial sensation was warmth. But as the chill of the night met the earth, the blood quickly cooled and coagulated into misshapen clots.

Was this same process occurring within the body? Were organs already mass-producing enzymes, to aid the body in decomposition?

He hadn’t noticed the girl lingering on the sidelines… in fact, he would have ignored her existence entirely, if she hadn’t veered towards him, shouting for him to pause in whatever sin she assumed he was about to commit. Reluctantly, he peeled his gaze away from the bobcat, glaring at the girl who was frantically approaching him with a look of panic on her face. And when she asks a rhetorical question, Sephiran cannot stop the manic gush of laughter that bubbles from his jaws. “Yes, He confirms, watching her with an analytical eye, as he performs an assessment of his new company. A girl around his age, much smaller than himself. How exciting. “…but not until I’m done.” His gaze shifts back to the bobcat, and he lifts a now blood-stained paw to rest it against its ribcage. A minute of silence passes… and he counts a respiratory rate of three.

Will it speed up if he presses on its chest?

Driven by morbid curiosity, Sephiran impulsively pushes down on the bobcat’s side, depressing its ribcage before releasing the pressure to allow it to recoil. He does this several times while observing the animal for a reaction. Beknownst to Sephiran, it is a haphazard act of CPR. It yowls again, most likely in response to pain from the pressure before it coughs up a puddle of blood that splatters in the girl's direction. It provided a false increase in the respiratory rate, which brought on a toothy smirk from the Saxe boy. "Do you believe in altering the course of death?" He mused aloud, wanting to gauge this girl's reaction to the scene developing before her. Perhaps she would become his next victim.

"Speech"