Blood Moon Date Night

While Saracyn slaughtered his opponent, Scylla had been busying herself butchering her own foe. With blade and precision she ended the life of the other in a spray of gore until all that remained was the crippled leader still trying to crawl to safety. Sara took a moment to look over the carnage the pair of heathens had wrought out in the garden this night and the behemoth of a brute couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride—amongst a swell of other things as well. Bright cerulean eyes snapped to the blood soaked fae as she flashed him an award winning smile and a thumbs up, earning her a scoff and a smirk back from the Mendacium brute. She was incorrigible and ridiculous, but she did make him smile.

Scylla gave him the go ahead to wrap things up with the lead brute and Saracyn was not about to turn down the offer for more liberal violence. Turning and stalking up to the collapsed wolf with surprising grace for his size, Sara drew down on the pathetic wretch, ignoring the pained whines and sniveling coming from him. With a growl, Sara grasped the other brute by the scruff and began to drag him back towards the scene of carnage to drop him rather unceremoniously before Scylla. The brute yelped in pain and looked up in fear at his captors. "Say you're sorry," Saracyn snarled down at the crippled dire wolf. He wanted to humiliate and emasculate the brute that had tried to fuck his fae. The wolf hesitated, looking up at Scylla in terror until Sara slammed his head down hard into the ground and yanked him back up again. "Say. You're. Sorry." The brute winced and sputtered out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Unmoved by the pleading of the trespasser, Sara yanked the brute's head back to expose his throat, then he lunged down and bit deep into the side of the wolf's throat, sinking serrated teeth through flesh and tearing away a large chunk of the wolf's neck. The brute gasped and gurgled as his blood poured from his ripped open windpipe, forepaws scrabbling uselessly at the dirt as he slowly exsanguinated right before their eyes.

Saracyn showed no mercy, holding the brute's head aloft with his destroyed throat pulled taut so the veins would empty their lifeblood out across the dirt, each beat of the wolf's heart pumping more and more blood to soak the grasses until the body went limp in Saracyn's grasp and those eyes that had leered lecherously at his Scylla turned into empty glass, never to see again. With the last of the wolves dead, the great dire brute tossed the cadaver away from them with a disgusted growl. He was absolutely soaked in blood and his heart was pounding in his chest, pumping adrenaline through his body. The heat of battle had ended, but the smoldering continued to grow deep in his belly. Nothing turned Saracyn on quite like a fight or bloodshed. Chest heaving with deep breaths, he turned to face Scylla once more, looking down at the blood-spattered fae with a familiar lustful gleam in his eyes. Their date night had been utterly fucked up by these wretches, but maybe the night could still be salvaged if Scylla was feeling the same urges he was after their bloodbath.

"Saracyn Mendacium"