Author Topic: not quite cannibalism... but something [Baal]  (Read 88 times)

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Offline Addereon

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not quite cannibalism... but something [Baal]
« on: May 31, 2017, 09:44:48 PM »

To say Addereon was familiar with marine life would be a gross overestimate. He'd learned how to swim efficiently and how to fish efficiently, and that was about as far as his knowledge went. There were no bodies of water as incredible as the sea where he'd come from--they'd been restricted to narrow rivers and small ponds. He had an insatiable curiosity and a need to learn, learn, learn, though, so it was no surprise that he'd spent the past several days since being accepted glued to the beach. So far, he hadn't been greeted by many, and those that had passed by had kept a wide berth, wary of him for some reason or another. Perhaps it was the way he bounded after any movement he saw in the cove he'd taken up station in--chasing sea turtles, crabs, every color of fish under the rainbow--anything he could find, really.

He'd caught quite a few too. The cove had it's own little rocky outcropping surrounding it, leading up, up, up in a nearly forty-foot cliff face. It was steep, but scraggly and overgrown with vines and roots, coming down over the side from the trees atop it. It was a perfect perch to lounge and eat his catches, the bones and exoskeletons scattered on the rocks below. He didn't mind that his new packmates had kept from him--they would warm up eventually. Probably. In all honesty, the great tan beast didn't care less either way; Raikov had accepted him, so whatever qualms they had with it could be taken up with him. Adder didn't mind defending himself, either--he was an asset, regardless of what they thought. He was useful.

Or at least, he would be. He intended to prove as much. He hadn't quite figured out how, just yet, but he was good at planning, despite the enacting being his best talent. Thinking about it, now, he'd undoubtedly need to do something to show them his usefulness. Catching crabs was hardly a skill to be sought after; a child could catch a skittering crab. Passingly, he yearned for some sort of war or incursion with which he could prove his real talent--battle.

If there was one thing his mother had taught him, it was the thrill of the fight. Maybe she hadn't quite intended for him to love it the way he did, but the way her eyes sparkled every time he got really worked up said otherwise. Hunting was a good outlet for his energy, but it was nothing compared to what he really sought after; a sense of purpose. The feeling of blood on his maw and flesh under his fangs for a reason, to protect his land, his new home, his Captain, his crewmates. To rip something apart because it deserved it, because it had earned his violence and his malice. He was so full of violence and malice. Hatred clawed at him like a raw, ugly thing, deep in his chest, beneath a heart he liked to keep as frigid as his gaze. Unfiltered, with no direction. Simmering under the surface like a pot waiting to boil over. Boiling for nothing. Boiling for everything.

Adder's tail lashed side-to-side over the edge of the little dip in the cliff he reclined in, his teeth crunching away at what remained of the most recent crab he'd snatched from the beach. His body was mostly cloaked in shadow, though with the harsh glare of the sun, it was probably easy to spot his bright pelt among the darkness of the rocks and roots he lay amongst.

Something splashed in the water, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts of conquest. Icy eyes zeroed in on the ripples among the ever-turning current's waves, pupils contracting as he searched the cove for the source. It sounded large. He found it easily, shimmering, slick brown coat sliding through the waves. What was it? Crabs he knew of, but this--this was something unlike anything he'd ever seen. An otter, yet nothing like one. Larger than he'd have expected, it's long body nearly six feet long, if not longer.

He pulled his tail in silently, his muscles flexing as he readjusted himself in the alcove, poised and at the ready to attack. Whatever this thing was, he wanted it. For the pelt, for the meat, for the experience of killing something he knew nothing about. He waited for it to swim close enough--just a bit closer--just a bit--

And then he pounced, silent as the grave, claws out towards his victim.

I'm out of my head
Of my heart, and my mouth
Cause you can run
But you can't hide
I'm gonna make you