As evening transitioned into night, Sephiran found himself lingering within the shadows of the towering redwoods. He was following a dimly lit path that led to the heart of the territory, guided by the soft illumination of the summertime crescent moon. An interaction with his toy was what usually drew him this far north, but tonight, he was hot on the trail of another enticing specimen. He had found it down on the outskirts of the forest, limping and yowling in protest, trying to find refuge from other predators. A wounded bobcat. Whatever had gotten to it first, had severed a back paw at the hock, causing it to limp and leave behind a trail of both arterial and venous blood… which Sephiran greedily lapped up from the earth, as he followed it through the forest. Normally, Sepiran would have been taken over by his bloodlust, and have killed the bobcat the moment he found it. But tonight, he had a thirst for a different kind of entertainment.

He wanted to experiment with it.

How long would it take for it to die from blood loss? What was its anatomy like? Did it have similar reproductive organs as himself? What about its claws?

He was itching to know.

After a while, he followed the bobcat to the heart of the territory, where it finally collapsed from exhaustion. Soft, anguished yowls followed each breath as it lay in a growing puddle of blood, and for a moment Sephiran stood and watched from the shadows. Licking at his lips, his pelt started to bristle at the thought of delivering the final blow. At the thought of warm, metallic blood squirting onto his face from the penetration of arteries. He suddenly strode forward, to loom over the lump of fur that was still emitting quiet cries. It sounded sorrowful, afraid even. For it did not know what would be waiting for it, once it closed its eyes for good.

"Speech"

Code by Sea

the scent of blood draws her forth like a siren song, moving her feet before she’s even registered a desire to stand, pulling her into the sprawling expanse of redwood trunks and dainty fern. the metallic tang of it sets her belly roiling and fur prickling, a reaction she attributes to nausea – whenever there’d been a cut or abrasion back home, she’d hidden away with the younger ones, afraid to so much as look – and yet it’s as though her mind has taken on a dazed, absent quality. she is detached, almost, looking down on her own tawny back as she follows the macabre trail.

and then she sees him: a large, dark figure, barely more than a glint of sharp fang and emerald eye. her heart stutters, almost ceasing to beat…then assumes a rapid pace as he comes to loom over what she registers now as a yowling, blood-splattered lump of fur. it careens her back into her own consciousness – though she doesn’t understand the force that drives her forward, sending her skidding to a frantic halt as her lips pry open and a shout lodges itself from between ivory teeth.

“wait!”

a litany of protests well up on her tongue (what is it he means to do to the creature? can he not see it is in pain?) but she finds herself unable to voice them. as silence hangs between them, she flushes, gripped with sudden sheepishness at her undoubtedly panicked appearance. carnelian eyes seek out the dying creature, however, and something shivers through her. there is just so much blood, sticky scarlet pools of it matting its spotted pelt. she waits for the expected wave of revulsion to seize her…but it does not come. instead, there is a curiosity simmering beneath her skin, urging her closer.

“is it…is it dying?”

Heterochromatic pools of amethyst and emerald became fixed on the pile of fur at his feet, entranced by the way its ribcage expanded and flattened with each breath it took. The movement was shallow, and almost undetectable to the naked eye. But Sephiran was so enveloped by the eminence of death that he was able to count the breaths it took in one minute. 12… 8… 5. As time ticked on, its respiratory effort decreased, along with the yowls that had morphed into soft whimpers. The pool of blood was growing in diameter, encompassing the body and seeping toward his paws. At the moment of contact with his toes, the initial sensation was warmth. But as the chill of the night met the earth, the blood quickly cooled and coagulated into misshapen clots.

Was this same process occurring within the body? Were organs already mass-producing enzymes, to aid the body in decomposition?

He hadn’t noticed the girl lingering on the sidelines… in fact, he would have ignored her existence entirely, if she hadn’t veered towards him, shouting for him to pause in whatever sin she assumed he was about to commit. Reluctantly, he peeled his gaze away from the bobcat, glaring at the girl who was frantically approaching him with a look of panic on her face. And when she asks a rhetorical question, Sephiran cannot stop the manic gush of laughter that bubbles from his jaws. “Yes, He confirms, watching her with an analytical eye, as he performs an assessment of his new company. A girl around his age, much smaller than himself. How exciting. “…but not until I’m done.” His gaze shifts back to the bobcat, and he lifts a now blood-stained paw to rest it against its ribcage. A minute of silence passes… and he counts a respiratory rate of three.

Will it speed up if he presses on its chest?

Driven by morbid curiosity, Sephiran impulsively pushes down on the bobcat’s side, depressing its ribcage before releasing the pressure to allow it to recoil. He does this several times while observing the animal for a reaction. Beknownst to Sephiran, it is a haphazard act of CPR. It yowls again, most likely in response to pain from the pressure before it coughs up a puddle of blood that splatters in the girl's direction. It provided a false increase in the respiratory rate, which brought on a toothy smirk from the Saxe boy. "Do you believe in altering the course of death?" He mused aloud, wanting to gauge this girl's reaction to the scene developing before her. Perhaps she would become his next victim.

"Speech"

Code by Sea

“yes.” the boy answers with complete non-chalance, intent on the scarlet spray he produces with each calculated push. ”…but not until I’m done.” fresh horror fills Dulla’s mouth, cloying and bittersweet. she unhinges her jaw on the winds of another protest - he’s practically torturing the creature - but it’s swallowed by a shriek as blood splatters across her pelt.

twisting to examine her ruined fur, she eyes each jewel-bright drop as though she expects it to jump up and bite her…but as several moments pass, her heartbeat slows and her initial fright seeps away. exhaling a shaky breath, Dulla begins to note the thick consistency of the blood, the cooling warmth, the black congealing of clots in the midst of a particularly gummy splatter. again, that curiosity surfaces. altering the course of death? was such a thing possible?

Dulla’s stomach churns with renewed nausea, bile rising at the thought of her own intrigue. swallowing, she observes the stranger; he is perhaps the most openly sadistic person she’s ever laid eyes on, a terrible gleam in that cruel two-toned gaze. and though he is scarcely older than herself, his body ripples with muscle and power. as his attention settles on her, she feels just as that dying creature must - trapped beneath his paw, compressed into a bloody mess. prey. she recognises the look he levels at her, understands the hunger darkening those slate features. he thinks her prey. trembling, Dulla lifts her chin and meets his gaze dead-on. she has to prove him wrong…her very survival might depend on it.

”my family thought death a pre-destined event, divined long before one’s birth.” she keeps her voice steady and calm - a miracle within itself. and despite her nerves, every word is the truth. ”personally, i’ve never agreed.” her confidence grows as she speaks, and she finds herself incrementally circling the dying creature, running an eye along its shuddering flank. ”i’ve always thought death to be a consequence of living - random, impersonal.”

His gaze shifted away from the bobcat,  settling upon the girl with an ominous intensity. Excitement was whirling in his eyes, though his face held a manic expression... A toothy grin, the perk of a single brow, pupils that seemed dilated larger than the moon itself, as he watched the blood from his victim splatter in her direction. The sheik from her maw made his pelt bristle, goosebumps rising across his flesh. The sound of her outcry, the scent of blood, the taste of death in the air. It was nearly enough to send the boy over the edge and into the frenzy he craved.

Whether it was confidence, or pure, morbid curiosity that fueled the girl's actions, he did not know. But she dared to lift her gaze from the bloody mess at his paws, meeting his gaze with rose-colored eyes glazed over with whatever emotion was controlling her. Fear most likely. He noted the way her body trembled, but the shakiness didn’t carry in her voice. She calmly responded to him… even though he could read the uneasiness on her face.

“Consequence of living- random, impersonal?” He repeated her statement as an inquiry, watching as she circled the heap of fur at his feet. She was analyzing it to expand on her opinion, he assumed. “I have to disagree.” The moment the words left his maw, his jaws splayed and he lunged forward- seeming as if he were going to attack the girl, but instead his fangs penetrated deep into the neck of the cat, which brought out a spray of arterial blood from the punctures his fangs created. One of his paws pressed against a shoulder to keep it pinned, and with several violent thrashes of his head, he severed the bobcat’s skull from its spinal cord with a sickening, gut-wrenching pop!

Still holding the head in his mouth he turned to her, expecting her to have stayed there and watched. Would she meet his expectations? If she hadn’t run away, he would toss the head in her direction, wanting it to roll to a stop just at her feet with its open, still eyes staring up at her, blood trickling from its gaping mouth. "You believe that to be random? Impersonal?” His tongue slipped past his jaws to slide across his bloodied fangs, removing the strings of coagulated blood before swallowing them down with a hard gulp.

He wanted to prove her wrong.

"Speech"

Code by Sea

he seems to have taken her view on death with a mixture of amusement and scorn, an almost mocking curiosity twisting those shadowers features. Dulla wonders if she ought to defend herself, if she ought to feel obligated to; but in truth, what does she know? the beliefs she’d grown up on, the morals her family had clung to and chosen over her, had brought about her own destruction. perhaps she truly couldn’t trust a word they’d fed her, perhaps it’d all been poison, in the end.

in any case, she has little time to dwell. a shriek builds and disperses within her throat in a matter of seconds as the man lunges for her, and for a heart-stopping second she reconciles to herself her own bloody end, splattered across the floor at the whimsy of her new acquaintance. her eyes fly shut, but the pain never comes - and when she opens her eyes, it is to watch as the boy rends flesh from bone, tearing the cranium of the creature from its neck with little more than a decisive yank. a cold chill skitters down her spine, stomach roiling as he regards her with those dual-coloured eyes, teeth clamped around the cranium like a morbid trophy. every muscle and tendon twitches with the urge to run. but she forces herself to stay, to look; examines every gory, horrifying inch. the initial sight of all that blood is nauseating, bringing terror forth with almost automatic ease. but as she forces herself to look, to see beyond the tearing of flesh and the snapping of bone, a clarity begins to fill her mind. death: random, impersonal. uncontrollable. her whole life, Dulla has never had control over anything - the very idea of it was wrested from her grasp at birth, and placated with hollow promises of glory and honour.

was death not an honour, in its own way? Dulla recalls the desperate rasping of the creature, it’s shallow, agonised breaths. was this not better than the alternative?: a slow, painful demise filled with loneliness and terror. choosing one’s end, or the end of another…didn’t it remove the miserable uncertainty of it all? she barely flinches when the head comes to land at her feet, it’s dull, glassy eyes staring unseeing into the distance. “do you fancy yourself some kind of god, then?” she asks softly, eyes never leaving the creature’s. it is as though she is speaking directly to it. “do you seek the final word on the deaths of others?” shaking slightly, Dulla reaches out and closes the creature’s eyes, letting them fall shut for the final time.