You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

Sephiran’s gaze bore into Ravana's tiny frame, settling on her with a maniacal intensity that demanded acknowledgment. But she was too consumed by her morbid desire to satiate her curiosity, soft musings spilling from her lips as she dissected the rabbit.

Normally, Sephiran would have been enraged by her ignorance. But as he stared down at the child - the youthful embodiment of macabre fascination, a harborer of gruesome intrigue - Sephiran saw a glimpse of himself. His head cocked slightly, memories flashing inside of his mind, a sense of deja-vu washing over him. There was no doubt about it- this one must have been one of his.

Sultan? Sephiran’s ears twitched, eyes widening slightly, portraying an eccentric look of intrigue. But the overwhelming sense of malevolence and power that accompanied him did not fade, his demeanor marked by an air of arrogance and superiority, even in the face of a child.

Ravana. Her name was Ravana, and her sire, was the Sultan. King of The Syndicate. Sephiran’s lips twitched, cracking into a curled, predatory smirk that exuded a cruel satisfaction. "Yes- the Sultan. Your Father." He confirmed, deep baritones splitting the silence between them.

This was a moment of ecstasy for him, an indulgence in his title as King. Though, in the corners of his fragmented mind, was a spark of disappointment. Thus far, this child seemed to share the most similarities to him- but she was a female. And in the Saxe culture, that meant disparity and suffering. As is the way of the Saxe.

Would you like its heart? I can gift it to you. It’s my favorite part.

Sephiran is pulled from his thoughts, his eyes trailing her as she turns to face him. She’s looking up at him with a gleam of obsession and intensity shimmering in her eyes, her little heart pounding in her chest, as she reveled in the danger looming above her.

For several moments, Sephiran is silent, allowing tension to build, until it is thick with the weight of dominance and control. It seemed as if Sephiran would snap at any moment, his volatile nature swirling in the depths of his pupils.

He would finally break the silence and command her. “You may try.” He says, before settling down on his hind end, sitting before her with an expectant look. He wasn’t sure if the girl could successfully harvest the rabbit's heart- she was young, and lacked skill and precision. But perhaps she would surprise him.

"Sephiran Saxe"