moment's silence / open

[BUBONICPLAGUE]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; padding: 10px; height: auto; overflow: auto;"][div style="width: 400px; padding: 0px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica;"]though he quite liked holing himself up in his room and only leaving during the ungodly hours of night when he would not be seen, bubonicplague found himself growing bored of the solitude. though he couldn't say he really missed a lot of the annoying as all hell voices that seemed to fucking congregate in this place, the demon was becoming bored of life as time went on, locked in a room in which he did nothing but pace and utter the words of forgotten languages to no one but himself.

with the dreadful click of his door's lock sliding out of place, the dire wolf slowly emerged from the pitch room, looking like the darkness of it had achieved sentience and split itself. through the halls of the observatory he moved in silence, paid no mind to the mingling of voices throughout the structure, only taking the time to pay attention to his surroundings upon reaching the main doors. sightless eyes stared blankly out ahead of him as he pushed through them and headed into the territory, a walking shadow padding ominous along the plains until he disappeared into the forest at their border.

with his size, bubonicplague found hunting to be somewhat of a tedious thing. though he had all the skills required—keen senses, and the ability to feel vibrations in the earth—he was far too large to be truly efficient. no matter how careful he was, he always managed to step on some stray stick he hadn't sensed before, scaring his prey off. it didn't help that he stood at five feet, and against the green of the underbrush and the light pouring in from the canopy, pitch black fur was not very helpful.

still, it gave him something to do; a hobby, of sorts, a way to keep himself busy as the days passed on, feeling longer and longer. for a while he had believed he was stuck in one place, cursed to forever live in the same moment. he felt he was going insane. hunting was a good way to ease his nerves and vent his frustrations—snapping his jaws around the neck of some helpless animal, oh, he'd never felt more alive than at the moment of the kill. he felt invigorated, so goddamn alive, like the beast he had suppressed for so long (though wasn't doing an incredible job at it) had come out to play.

at that moment, he stalked a buck, grazing in a small clearing bathed in sunlight. the demon kept to the shadows, still as though he was a statue, mingling with the darkness. for some time he stayed that way, watching the creature with blind gaze, ears angled forward to catch any sudden movements. the air around him stagnant, bubonicplague steeled himself, before he leaped from the shadows, paws thrumming heavily over the forest floor as he lunged for the deer. an alarmed bleat erupted from the creature and it turned quick on its heels, sprinting through the trees with a dire wolf nearly nipping at its ankles.

as the chasing creatures burst from the trees and onto the stretching plains, the demon launched himself off the ground and landed upon the buck, slamming the deer hard into the grass. the flailing creature struck him with the sharp tips of its antler, tearing through the side of his neck; as blood began to ooze from the fresh wound, bubonicplague curled his lip, teeth bared as he wrenched his head down and snapped his jaws tight around its neck. another bleat from the dying creature reached his ears, and with a satisfied rumble, the dire wolf finished it off, quick and clean.

he raised his head proudly and licked the blood from his maw, taking a moment to bask in the way his heart pounded in his chest, blood thrumming in his veins. he always felt so cold, so dead, with a barely beating heart and a freezing body. as warmth spread through him the wolf lowered himself to the ground and fixed his teeth on the shoulder of the buck, wasting no time as he tore into his kill, devouring it with vigor as though he hadn't eaten in weeks.

[MOONMADE]

[size=9pt]"Aren't old people supposed to care about table manners?" As ironic as it was for a predator such as a lion to be so squeamish, Moon's stumbled across the scene, and stands, now, with one side of his lip drawn up in distaste as he watches the wolf maul at his prey. Though he doesn't seem the type, with his disheveled state and muddy paws, Moon cares about... Cleanliness. Or, at least, faces not covered entirely with blood, which is what he sees now. Perhaps it stems from the many time he's witnessed his mother return home with her face stained crimson, but childhood traumas that materialize themselves as casual preferences in adulthood was something he preferred not to think too hard on-- so he wouldn't know.

The lanky creature can't look away, though, so he watches blood seep through Bubonicplague's fur until he catches on that it isn't the buck's-- It's his. At which point the lion can't stifle a laugh. "Thought the aim of the game was to take down the prey without making a corpse of yourself, too." He quips, and though he inches forward, he stops just as soon, because although he's an ex-Halo with the immediate instinct to heal, Bubonicplague is someone Moon's not too sure about getting too close to, just yet. He'd wait for Imperia.

— TAGS

[BUBONICPLAGUE]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; padding: 10px; height: auto; overflow: auto;"][div style="width: 400px; padding: 0px; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica;"]/ local dumbass finally replies after almost two weeks

ears twitched slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps, and the wolf paused for a moment to raise empty eyes to moon. he snorted at the comment about table manners; why would he care for such a trifle? he had done much worse before this, things he wasn't particularly proud of, the horrors of a demon cursed with life eternal ever present. bubonicplague drew his tongue slowly over his bloody maw and made a half-assed attempt at cleaning himself up, until he realized that he didn't actually care, at which point he resumed tearing into the buck.

another quip from the lion interrupted though, and with an annoyed growl, the beast sat up from his meal. "'tis but a flesh wound." he rumbled in return, hardly laughing at his own little joke of it. "i've been a corpse long before this. not like it will kill me more." bub raised a paw to scratch at the tear, irritating it with hardly a reaction, before he curled a lip at moon. a rather good thing the boy had stopped himself from coming close; the demon wasn't keen of him or the idea of being fussed over, when he'd died to things far worse than a mere cut.

sightless eyes keeping on moon for a few moments longer, bubonicplague finally dipped his head down again, teeth sinking into the flesh of the deer once more. he knew he wouldn't be to keep all of it down, but instinct was a hard thing to deny, and he wasn't fond of sharing. he tore chunks and swallowed them whole, eventually slipping back to the ground, setting his paws on the buck so it was easier to devour.