He'd fallen asleep beneath those stones, dreaming of the windy nights he'd ask Katar to meet him by the ruins in the jungle of their home. They were just children, then.. but in a world full of so much chaos, young love certainly felt like the real thing. He would dream of those nights, and then the nights where he stood there alone without her when she'd chosen to abandon the pack. Finally, he would dream of the night she lay before him with her blood spilling across the ruins and across his tongue.

An audible whine left his sleeping form as he spun into a dismal nightmare until finally that fiery gaze suddenly opened. It opened, but he still felt like he was dreaming.. and as he got to his paws he realized he wasn't fully aware of the commands he was giving to his body to order it to do so. But what did it matter? He spun into a whirlwind of regret while thinking of Katar and felt his heart yearn for her company on nights like tonight. He didn't care, and his conscience recessed in an ocean of mournful emotions.

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What was left was the hollow eyes of a demon standing next to the stones. His other half, and the one that took over when his emotions became too full of self-hatred for him to properly function. This fiend took care of him when he needed him the most, it was why Elias let him do what had to be done.. it was.. at least, what he told himself.

It was such a rare occurrence for him to be given control so freely. A grin spread over those inky lips as the wolf of stone stretched and prepared for a night full of terror. He'd shake his short pelt when he rose up from his stretch, twisting his skull to give an audible crack to his neck before he rolled his shoulders forward and kept and ominously still spine as he waltzed through the stones. He would take care of Elias, he would distract his mind from Katar.. with a little remorse over something else.

Jett's eyes still burned somewhere in Poser's heart. When everything is falling apart, young love feels like the real thing. It pretends to be real, it mimics all the signs and symptoms. When the boy is just old enough to make you feel like you're getting away with something, when he's running a pack all of his own. When he's responsible for taking care of so many, and all he wants to do is take care of you. It makes you feel like you're the most important one in the world. There was an ache in Poser's chest at even the sound of his name echoing in his head. Oh lord how he'd said his name. He hadn't even been Poser in those days. He'd been someone else. Someone far away. Someone that was warm on the inside instead of cold. And then there was the sight of his body, crumbled, beneath the rubble. He couldn't save what was already dead. His first family, his first home. After that point in time there was nothing stable left. There was nothing real left. Poser was having those dreams again, the kind that burned from the inside out. What the hell, why does he hurt so badly? Why does it feel like his insides are at war with themselves? So much had been unresolved. So much still hurt. Fuck, he hadn't stopped hurting since he started introducing himself as Poser. Everything is empty. He rushes out through the runestones. Poser is running from something that had already caught him, had long ago wrapped its jaws around his throat and squeezed. He hurts, and there's nothing to stop that. A vicious cycle of fighting himself, of destroying himself. There were no drugs that would calm his system. Instead it's running. He will run and run and run until his demons tire and he can sleep again. He will run through the darkness and he will run from all the things that should be able to catch him. That shouldn't be able to catch him. Russian Wolfhound. He's literally been bred, selectively, for hundreds of years to slay wolves. But he has no interest in that. He has no need for that. Poser wants to befriend them, wants to find his home with them. He will run forever, a real racing hound. He will run until he tires. The demons were here, and they were alive inside his head. Hell had cracked wide open. So open, you understand, that they had taken over his thoughts and retrieved the mind they'd left in the wind. Poser is not doing well tonight. As he slows at the runestones, Poser is falling apart. There's something in his chest that hurts. It's an emotional pain, the healer in him can still understand that. "Do you hurt too?" At this hour, the only ones that were up, did. They hurt. To be up at the witching hour, you were either in love or in pain. If you were alone, it was usually the second one. Poser's sapphire gaze finds the other creature in the dark. It wouldn't kill him to ask, right? Probably. your charged touch poser breathy way of saying my name

sorry about the word vomit >.> Poser apparently wanted to talk about his life story.

The dark silhouette of a slender wolf made caught his attention, it appeared the demon didn't have to travel far to find what he was looking for. A healthy set of knives were left exposed as the macabre king peeled back his lips in a grin riddled with malice, his ears twitching to the question thrown in his direction. 'Do you hurt too?' It stunned him for just a moment, his rubies finding the other's sapphires as a faint flicker of the true Elias cured the evil grin that had been plastered on his muzzle.

He stood with a squared stance, tall and proud though the air of pride was quickly funneling to his paws as his stature slumped, his neck leveling with his spine as he reflected on his loss. Yes, he hurt. The demon was not so eager to let go of his hold on Elias, and in this moment of weakness it took the reigns once again. His visage transitioned from sorrow to anger as the hellfire in those red eyes lit up the intentions of his hungry soul. His tail flagged in warning as he inspected the other, quickly assessing the thin male not as a wolf but as a dog that dared to approach a wolf nearly a foot taller than him in height. A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as the demon lifted his head once again, his ears perking forward as stained teeth clenched and hissed out the words he spoke. "Hurt? That would imply I do not find pleasure in my pain. I find it rather.. inspiring, actually. Don't you?" Every syllable clicked harshly when his teeth met, and as he spoke the beast dared to slowly approach the dog in front of him in the low stature of a predator.

A game of shadows and demons, things that are white hot and ice cold. Careful, but not afraid. Never afraid. And yet he aches. Bone deep-- no. Soul deep, Poser aches. There's a soul in there somewhere, and yet here he is. Angels and demons. The devil and god raging away inside him. Something plays on his face and in his eyes, carefully trained on the man before him. There's always something careful about Poser, something that's hard to place and harder to process. Something that should be empty but doesn't know how to. He never knows how. He hurts. The bone deep ache of an abscessed tooth, or something similar to it. It's the constant feeling deep in his chest, the ticking of a time bomb. He is that time bomb, he's the powder keg about to explode. It's the flickering inside Elias that brings Poser closer, but just by a step. Glimmering in those damned sapphire eyes-- careful. Always careful. He wouldn't be the cigarette to fresh powder on this creature, but there's something... interesting. He's a bastard, he's a dog, and his posture is always long and low. It's bred into him. It's long been bred inside him, and he can't keep that away. The build of his spine, the way he carries his head and his tail. At least Poser is fast-- fastest in the land, unless another sighthound like himself was to show up. If he needed to, he could run. He could run far and fast and wide. The shadow can handle himself, eyes upon the demon. Angels and demons are at play tonight. He would play. He would play with that demon, he would pet it. Coddle it. Pull it close and when it disappeared, he'd pretend like nothing had happened. Light on his feet and graceful as a swan, Poser gazes upon Elias. "Violent delights bring violent ends, but it's fucking delicious." A wag of his tail, the shadow bends at the waist, seeming to nearly disappear against the dark. Dramatically speaking, Poser was the dark. And it was fantastic. your charged touch poser breathy way of saying my name

His eyes shimmered appreciatively as the innocent waltzed closer to him, so unsuspecting and nearly regal in his stature as he moved without a care and a wag in his tail. There was a visible shiver that came of Elias' spine and shook his body with delight as he watched the other step closer and closer, his lips salivating with a touch of froth as he awaited the arrival of his victim eagerly.

When they spoke, the demon smirked and his eyes seemingly glinted with amusement as he lifted his skull in a playful manner. "You have no idea." A twist of his features contorted his expression in an instant as his lips peeled back to unveil his weaponry as a hellish scream ripped from his chest in the form of a challenging snarl. His eyes nearly disappeared, only visible as lowlit embers while the meat of his face surrounded them for protection and his skull lowered to ally with his neck and shoulders. His teeth flung apart, lines of drool still clinging on from bottom to top as if desperately pleading for them to close again. His hackles were summoned from the base of his tail to just behind his folded back ears; they padded his spine and protected it while giving the beast an even taller appearance.

His body weight lowered in fluid movement, all of his legs remaining limber as he bent at the knee and squared his stance. His toes reached out into the soil below him, talons menacingly tearing at the earth as his tail hugged to his flank in a fighter's stance. He snapped his jaws at the air ahead of him just before those heavy paws pushed against the earth and launched him forward, teeth clicking in an echo while the sound ricocheted off the surrounding stones. He moved with incredible speed for his size, his limbs expertly working together to cover the ground and close the space between him and his victim. He suspected the slender dog would run, run like it had been bred to do, though Elias' would aim for the pretty thing's slender rib-cage all the same.

Regardless of whether or not the other turned to run or stood and faced him, Elias' would aim to get the wolfhound on his own left side. Elias directed his trajectory a little to his own right and kept his mouth agape, chin tucked downward slightly to keep his neck scrunched as they aimed toward his left. Elias would come in when he had a clear shot of the other's side, thick teeth aiming right behind the skinny shoulder blade of the dog in the middle of it's rib-cage. He wanted to pinch the dog's loose skin together as his jaws closed, to allow his fangs to penetrate in a hold that would cause moderate puncture wounds.

While he focused on landing his bite, his limbs had to shuffle accordingly and toes had to tear apart the ground to will his weight to stop. Most of his weight was thrown into his upper body to anchor it into position while his back legs worked as brakes to slow him in his approach. His front limbs seemed to bend a bit more than his back to keep his neck and chest low to the ground and free from fear of being knocked out of place. After his bite landed that weight would be thrown into Poser, attempting to hold on to the wolfhound while he would attempt to push his own weight into him enough to make him lose his balance and knock him over.


Elias vs. Poser || For Maim (Possibly just a challenge?) || 1/3

ooc; didn't know how much space was between them and I didn't want to decide without you, so I know I'll lose some points there but feel free to specify how much space was between them when Elias launched initially. Also, Elias' end goal is to tear off Poser's lips and then leave him with a nice chelsea's smile on one side. If that's not enough to be considered a maim, then this is just a challenge for dominance.

And the winner is...

Elias! Due to Poser not posting in the allotted time, the fight has defaulted in Elias' favor. Poser must give up by submitting, passing out, or fleeing.

Because the maim was not specified, and there was no clarity on the challenge, the maim has failed.