Maea
And I only needed one more touch
Another taste of devouring rush
Another taste of devouring rush
The bloodlust was like a living thing. It was more than an itch, more than a mere prickle of the skin. Like a seething fury without release it ebbed and flowed, enveloped the mind and grew a little more each day. Making her irritable. Changing her preference in the food she ate, the clothes she could stand to wear, the people she suffered to keep in her presence. Far more profound than any monthly cycles she had ever experienced, Maea felt very much like a teenager again when it came to the bloodlust, just as petulant and enraged at being enslaved to the urges of her body with no say in the matter. Dangerous, if left too long. Dangerous for those around her. The risk to herself... was more psychological.
Did others of her kind enjoy this? The need to hunt and kill, the urge to tear into anything that moved, sink her fangs in and rip, tear, make the crimson spill out until it covered her hands and dripped from her lips, coating her tongue with the taste of hot, tangy metal..? No? Yes? She could imagine that some would delight in the act. Certainly there was a darkness within herself that was more than capable of getting used to it, and she sensed it for a slippery slope into debauchery, a quick path down into madness as alluring as the call of the void. And yet there was no choice in the matter. Either hunt or return to stone.
What a harsh mistress the goddess was. Perhaps they might get along splendidly, once the young Ancient learned to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. She had always preferred the dark, anyway. Death, and the things that went bump in the night. How far of a leap was it to become one of them?
Prowling the Outer Brambles as twilight settled over the landscape, Maea had yielded enough to the needs that sang in her blood to shift. The tiger cared less than the human; felt not so much guilt about the little fires it left in its wake, nor did it wax poetics about the sanctity of life, and all that. It knew only hunger, and scaled the steep hillside to taste the wind for a suitable meal. The more vigorous the better.
But no humans. That part of her remained rock solid in its conviction. Reason still remained - at least for now.
Did others of her kind enjoy this? The need to hunt and kill, the urge to tear into anything that moved, sink her fangs in and rip, tear, make the crimson spill out until it covered her hands and dripped from her lips, coating her tongue with the taste of hot, tangy metal..? No? Yes? She could imagine that some would delight in the act. Certainly there was a darkness within herself that was more than capable of getting used to it, and she sensed it for a slippery slope into debauchery, a quick path down into madness as alluring as the call of the void. And yet there was no choice in the matter. Either hunt or return to stone.
What a harsh mistress the goddess was. Perhaps they might get along splendidly, once the young Ancient learned to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. She had always preferred the dark, anyway. Death, and the things that went bump in the night. How far of a leap was it to become one of them?
Prowling the Outer Brambles as twilight settled over the landscape, Maea had yielded enough to the needs that sang in her blood to shift. The tiger cared less than the human; felt not so much guilt about the little fires it left in its wake, nor did it wax poetics about the sanctity of life, and all that. It knew only hunger, and scaled the steep hillside to taste the wind for a suitable meal. The more vigorous the better.
But no humans. That part of her remained rock solid in its conviction. Reason still remained - at least for now.
But the room was so quiet
Whose side am I on?
Whose side am I on?
