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

Although this pup was young - a mere amateur in the art of anatomy and pathology - she was not discouraged. In fact, she reveled in her inexperience, choosing to learn from this exposure. Her tiny paws moved methodically, shifting through entrails, avoiding the sharp prominences of bone and the acidic cavities of gastric organs.

While she worked, Sephiran did not turn his attention away- he watched her, his gaze burning into her frame, hyper-focused on her performance as he analyzed every move she made. There was no warmth in his eyes- only a calculated, indulgent cruelty that reveled in her desire to cut, to slice, to mutilate until she obtained her prize.

Arteries split, blood splattered, and soon, Ravana was lifting up the heart, presenting it to him like a sacrificial gift, hoping for the mercy of a god. She dropped it at his feet, offering it to him. This was a crucial moment in their development as pup and Father- Sephiran could use it to forge a budding bond between them.

But as his unforgiving, calculating gaze inspected the organ, a look of disapproval slowly worked its way onto his face. He used a paw to swipe the heart away, his eyes locking on her even as it rolled into the underbrush nearby. “Botched and messy.” He hissed, rejecting her offering. Wanting to see his rejection make her squirm.

"Sephiran Saxe"