You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
Sephiran
Berserker07-19-2024, 11:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 07-19-2024, 11:33 PM by Ravana. Edited 1 time in total.)
Ravana's lilac eyes sparkled with a dark curiosity as she gazed at Sephiran, her pupils dilating as if to drink in every detail of his imposing presence. Despite the formidable shadow he cast, she remained undeterred, almost reveling in the weight of his gaze. Her chest rose and fell steadily, each breath measured but thrilled, a testament to her unflinching nature and anticipation. Her mother had taught her well, after all. She tilted her head slightly, a slow, deliberate movement that revealed her growing intrigue. “Why try when I can succeed?” She said boldly, voice is a chilling blend of confidence and cold detachment; not understanding the challenge – she had offered it to him; why would she say something she couldn't fulfill?
She silently turned back to the rabbit as he seated himself, a slow switch back into utter focus. Her nimble paws moved with an eerie precision, her fingers flexing like an amatuer pianist preparing for a concerto. Her eyes gleamed with a sinister light, her lips curling upward into a smile that spoke of her fascination with the morbid task at hand. She continued her work with as meticulous of care as she could, her young mind focused intently on the delicate process of extracting the rabbit's heart. Child or not, she needn’t be a surgeon to pull out a heart from a dead cadaver.
The incision was already made, and she let the knife drop from her jaw with a soft thud. Her teeth, unnaturally dagger-sharp and glinting in the dim light, took over as she widened the cut. Her small paws pressed down on the ribcage, the bones cracking under the pressure as she made a soft little grunt noise. A hehe leaving her caramel lips as her fluffy tail swished in the air. She pushed past the fragmented bone and slick blood with her nose, her tongue flicking out briefly to wet her lips and taste the claret as she tugged the vital organ into view. So warm. So bittersweet. Sephiran's gaze was like a burning force on her back, a pressure that only spurred her on. Her father was watching! Watching her! He must have been like her, she must have been like him. Even her mother twisted her nose up at her projects at times, despite the affection she showed.
The silence between them was thick, the air crackling with the challenge. It wasn’t about making him proud. Ravana cared about sharing this part of her that not many understood. And even that was a fleeting act of whimsy. She liked when she had an audience, liked when she was someone’s focus. She grasped the knife again, her movements swift and sure as she snipped the tendons and arteries. It wasn't perfect; a spray of blood arced out, splattering her face and chest. She paused, her brows knitting together in brief irritation before a giggle bubbled up from her throat, her laughter light and eerie. Silly rabbit. Revenge was for the living.
Finally, she lifted the small, still-warm heart, her eyes locking onto Sephiran's with a twisted glint as she turned to him. So small, seated before her sire, dropping the heart at his feet. The cold was seeping into her young bones by this point, a shudder wracking her frame; but she was so invested in their interaction that she kept her paws firmly planted. Not wanting to return to the den quite yet. She wasn’t done yet! Not with the rabbit, not with the sultan! “For you, Sultan.” The little girl said, her voice tinged with a mocking sweetness for the poor little heart. Her lips curled into a small, wicked smile as she offered the heart to him, a macabre gift from one budding predator to another fully realized one. The meaning of the gleam in her eyes was clear: Take my heart, Father. Take it, take it!
ravana
She silently turned back to the rabbit as he seated himself, a slow switch back into utter focus. Her nimble paws moved with an eerie precision, her fingers flexing like an amatuer pianist preparing for a concerto. Her eyes gleamed with a sinister light, her lips curling upward into a smile that spoke of her fascination with the morbid task at hand. She continued her work with as meticulous of care as she could, her young mind focused intently on the delicate process of extracting the rabbit's heart. Child or not, she needn’t be a surgeon to pull out a heart from a dead cadaver.
The incision was already made, and she let the knife drop from her jaw with a soft thud. Her teeth, unnaturally dagger-sharp and glinting in the dim light, took over as she widened the cut. Her small paws pressed down on the ribcage, the bones cracking under the pressure as she made a soft little grunt noise. A hehe leaving her caramel lips as her fluffy tail swished in the air. She pushed past the fragmented bone and slick blood with her nose, her tongue flicking out briefly to wet her lips and taste the claret as she tugged the vital organ into view. So warm. So bittersweet. Sephiran's gaze was like a burning force on her back, a pressure that only spurred her on. Her father was watching! Watching her! He must have been like her, she must have been like him. Even her mother twisted her nose up at her projects at times, despite the affection she showed.
The silence between them was thick, the air crackling with the challenge. It wasn’t about making him proud. Ravana cared about sharing this part of her that not many understood. And even that was a fleeting act of whimsy. She liked when she had an audience, liked when she was someone’s focus. She grasped the knife again, her movements swift and sure as she snipped the tendons and arteries. It wasn't perfect; a spray of blood arced out, splattering her face and chest. She paused, her brows knitting together in brief irritation before a giggle bubbled up from her throat, her laughter light and eerie. Silly rabbit. Revenge was for the living.
Finally, she lifted the small, still-warm heart, her eyes locking onto Sephiran's with a twisted glint as she turned to him. So small, seated before her sire, dropping the heart at his feet. The cold was seeping into her young bones by this point, a shudder wracking her frame; but she was so invested in their interaction that she kept her paws firmly planted. Not wanting to return to the den quite yet. She wasn’t done yet! Not with the rabbit, not with the sultan! “For you, Sultan.” The little girl said, her voice tinged with a mocking sweetness for the poor little heart. Her lips curled into a small, wicked smile as she offered the heart to him, a macabre gift from one budding predator to another fully realized one. The meaning of the gleam in her eyes was clear: Take my heart, Father. Take it, take it!
