Get Out Alive.

As soon as the name left the woman’s lips, Setekh was stricken with far more than depraved lust. His molten orbs bore into her half lidded toxic ones, watching how out of sorts she was, while he waits. A mistake? A slip of the tongue? He hadn’t thought of his daughter whilst in the brutally passionate embrace of the woman… But Setekh knew he had not imagined it. It was this woman’s voice, speaking that precious name, moaning it. His jaws tighten further, as though he would squeeze the words out of her faster. Absinth? His Absinth? What would the likes of this beautiful creature know of his little girl? Setekh is motionless, lost to the war of thrill and rage. True, he had been searching for his daughter, but to have possibly come so close? He could only imagine how much she had grown, all of it away from his gaze.

‘Absi…you’re…so beautiful.’ There. The nail that struck the coffin of his insanity. The God is possessed, eyes flashing in anger and obsession. Pure obsession! His prized possession. HIS ABSINTH. OH ABSOLVE HER OF HER CRIMES! He shifts his weight, a paw coming to press down against her throat as he releases his jaws. He must speak. Must elicit more information from her. As his pink tongue darts out, licking the blood from his lips, his chin, he is too late to catch what had already smeared into his neck and chest. His cheek is lacerated, blood flowing like crimson tears from his otherworldly face. The Ivory Prince smiles, a sweet, haunting thing – a promise of torment. A hind limb raises as his face cracks into a deliciously malicious grin. He is crazed – maddened, evidently, as his leg pushes down on her lower region with sensual force. “My… daughter. You know my Absinth?” He speaks, purring enticingly as he applies more pressure to her throat and womanhood in tandem. Speak. Speak. SPEAK. But there is something horribly wrong with the way he refers to his daughter. It is sick. It is twisted.

"He Speaks" | 'He Thinks' | The Madness