Thread: Alex loves Krys very, very much! [Aember and Mrow]

And Krys loves Alex very, very much! D Standing off at the entrance to the room was Tristan's shadow, the Lycan servant called Kendan. He stood poised, seemingly perched on the tips of his toes and yet relaxed at the same time, his dark purple eyes narrowed as he watched his master mull lazily about the room. Of course, he was paid no attention to, which was why he allowed such a dark expression to be present on his face. Although his master was a beauty, and more than pleasing to the eye, it seemed as though all Kendan wanted to do was waste the Vampire. In reality, that was all he wanted to do. He could just envision it now he would dig his claws into that pale, thin neck. He would crush the Vampire's useless windpipe, rip apart the unbleeding flesh and feel the crackle of Tristan's spinal cord against the palms of his hands. Such brutality he lusted for, even though he knew that such treatment wouldn't ultimately kill the Vampire. No, only a stake through the heart would do that, and Kendan swore it-- when the time came, he would have a stake in Tristan's heart. He would have the pleasure of hearing the Vampire's screams, of seeing his face contort, of sensing his death. Though, such fantasy never left Kendan's mind-- not only in the sense that he never expressed it, but in the sense in which he thought about it daily. Such a fact was ironic, seeing as how Vampires believed Lycans to be quick-tempered, rash fools. In many ways they were. But first and foremost they were wolves, and wolves hunted in packs. Single one out and they would never show their true nature-- put them together and they were a force to be feared. Although the first generation of Vampires had known this, their memories seemed to have waned over the centuries. Which was why Kendan knew that although this day, nor the next day, nor the next week, would not be the day on which he would see his master's demise, he knew that it would be soon. There were whispers of groups forming, resistance to the Vampire's lordship over the Lycan. And while such groups were small-- an escaped slave here, or there-- they were growing, which offered hope to Kendan and the rest of his people. Because even a small group of wolves could take down a prey much larger than themselves. However, when Kendan's name was called he was torn out of his fantasy and back into the real world, where he was still a slave to a brattish Vampire boy and freedom was still only whispers, not cries. The tall Lycan stepped forward, up to the couch, and revealed himself in the improved lighting. He was tanned-skinned naturally, and his hair was a dark chesnut brown. Under the swaddling of a slave he had powerfully formed muscles, though his build was still sleek and stream-lined wolfish. His step was keen and his face alert, although once he stepped up to his master the alertness melted into obedient placidness. Yes, master? Kendan intoned. His voice was deep, rich, and gruff-- almost like a growl, though there was no menacing qualities. There was potential for it, however. How may I be of service? His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes rested on the form of the Vampire to whom he was speaking but, as trained, he never looked at the other's pretty face. Kendan had seen it enough, and there was no denying that his master's looks were striking. They had been ever since the pair were young teens. That was when Kendan was taken on as a personal slave to Tristan, before they both had hit maturing age. Even then they had been night and day-- Kendan as dark as they come and Tristan light-coloured and ethereal. The roles were horridly reversed. Kendan was still a creature of the day, and although he'd never seen the sun he'd heard stories, and longed for it. Tristan was undead. A cold thing, fit only for the grave. Kendan would make sure he made it there.