Thread: It's All Relative (Monster Teeth and Verse)

A childish disappointment inside when she covered her lips, working with the rest of her oral cavity, to make short work of the the piece of meat she'd deposited in there. He had another piece of his own food, enjoying the center of blood. A thought flitted to breaking her lips, some how, gently and kiss her until she fainted. He wondered if she would enjoy it on impact, or if it would have to be a required taste. How for was any human being from what he was, if they could all be civilized, and cook other creatures on the planet. Necessity, they said, and practicality. He would agree to those things. But the culinary arts were a science. Sweeten here, spice there. To say the human capacity for apathy toward death was great, would be to undersell. But this wasn't any other person, going about their life, living from pleasure to pleasure, was it? No, he thought in the parody of a setting, his apex nature residing in a closed space with pray, this wasn't a deer. If anything she was the queen of his forest. Some strong body, built for running but also for defense. If it was in his nature to hunt, it was in her nature to protect. And protectors also have weapons, don't they? He had the impulse to feed her. Ah, but that would come soon enough, wouldn't it? This was simply another part of everything they would share. A last lick of iron before the chicken disappeared down his gullet. He had some coffee while he listened to her talk about the capacity of dark musings of people. He smirked, a bit of shadow under his right eye, which made that the most truthful. There was always a large contrast between his pale eyes and the things that decided to line them, be it less bright lighting, shade or his bent forest of lashes. The few time he'd employed his beauty in his nightly activities, it had been effective. So to the point where he didn't find it a sport anymore. He longed to show himself to Alexandria, though. What would she think, of that reveal? And in turn, how would he feel, when he laid her bare, with or without her consent. He'd always like to think that some sentiment would take over in the last moment, perhaps overwhelm him to become that fabled hero, stronger than hos own urges. How could it be so, though, when the beauty of demise always eclipsed the fairness of Good's victory. Since you put it like that, I suppose I must rephrase. What then, Lexi of the dark mind, who has seen so much, would you do to The Creator, if you were to design his punishment? There was playful mockery in his voice, which meant it was almost ceremoniously serious. He enjoyed teasing her. That part of his presented person had never been an act. She had always taken it well, since it was all based on camaraderie, anyway. Her eyes on fire, she asked for more details on his question, and he was more than happy to oblige. What a treat it would be, to listen to the structures of her vengeance. Any enforcer of the law will at some point try to create their own system. Now, what had she thought out of frustration when the current devices in place to protect the masses had failed her? What would you make him feel? What would you say to him? And then, what would you do in order to make him feel these things? It would be intimate, wouldn't it, if she somehow would get the better of him, in the final stages, where she would have lost so much to his construct. Her pure mind, her virgin murderous intent. He would look at it and see through her. But what would he see? It would be inevitable, her desire to hurt him, and in that moment she would know him fully, but would the remnants of her current self be enough to take her back. If his failure looked like that, he would enjoy it still, without any bitterness. In the end, it was all to seduce her into her true form. And that would have been so, if she was the one to end him, at the zenith of things.