Thread: ...And Blood Shall Hunt For Blood [Kuro_Bara x Ryees]

Tereille had taken on a darkness. Jaenelle's... outburst had shaken him to his core. He had descended, then, as far as he could. He had not been sure if he was running towards or away from her, only that he had to move, and keep moving, or be destroyed. Maybe being destroyed by Jaenelle would not be so bad. Who knew? Everything he had heard of her had just been conflict. The Sadist called her the most wonderful thing in the world and the scariest at the same time if the Sadist thought her wonderful, she was almost certainly exceptional beyond reason. And if he thought her terrifying... Daearmuid let that thought dissolve away into the Abyss before it manifested fully in his conscious mind. That was a dangerous line of thought, no doubt. Dangerous subjects and a dangerous situation. Even here in Tereille, where order and law had just been obliterated by that great storm, less danger lurked around the corner on average. Daear was able to lazily stroll down the streets here, serene and calm. He didn't have to worry about a crazed Warlord lurching out of the alley and trying to kill him. But that serenity was marred by a thick line of curiosity. It was that scent, that same scent he had smelled on every Queen he had come across. It was unmistakable yet unknown, familiar yet foreign, all wrapped in a thick veil of confusion Why did that psychic scent come so strongly here in Tereille? Karla's visions had been vague, but Tereille had been central in them. There was a Queen, another girl, a group of Blood, and then nothing. It had sputtered into nothingness without giving him any real direction, so he had found himself wandering Tereille somewhat aimlessly. Then that scent had caught him, and led him here. This was where Dorothea's hell hole was. And where... His foot crunched the ground as frost formed around his boots. Dorothea had had operations here, certainly, but Daemon had not had to coax Jaenelle out of the Abyss because of Dorothea. Greer. Briarwood. His wings flared abruptly, slamming air out of the way and launching him forward. It only took a few bursts of psychic energy to break the sound barrier, hurdling through the streets of Tereille like a missile. He used Craft to form a hard shield in front of him and plowed through the wall of one of the abandoned manors of Tereille. Her body was still warm, her Sapphire Jewels broken and strewn about. The scents in the room led him nowhere, too bathed in fear and hatred and aggression to discern anything real. But this body was young. And she was a Queen. The snarl that escaped his lips could have cut glass. Craft summoned his spear, elegant crimson steel singing through a crescent arc edged in Ebon Gray energy. The walls were sliced through like tissue paper, and he pressed onward. Three more scenes like the first. Three more pools of blood, shattered Jewels, and brokenness. His heart pounded in his ears as the blood raced around his head, the tempered Cold that Daemon had tried to instill in him replaced instead by the passionate heat of the Sadist's half-brother. Indeed, Lucivar and Daearmuid likely shared more in common with each other than Daear and Daemon, for their bloodlines carried much of the same passion and pride of the Eyrien histories. He could follow these trails all over Tereille, but he knew, ultimately, where he would end up. He broke the sound barrier again, this time headed straight for the most evil place he would ever visit.