the ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?

As soon as he'd turned in his quest to Mother, Edmund had set out to the bloodbath to indulge in his success. Sinking down into the crimson the Ancient submerges down to his collarbones, letting out a content sigh. It's an odd sensation to soak in blood but not unwelcome. It had the fire magic in his blood singing and the tiger beneath his skin rumbling in approval. Perhaps it has to do with Ancient instincts and bloodlust. Regardless, he's content. Meanwhile, Splat floats around curiously. The blood appeals to the Darkling but given that he can't soak, it's useless. Hearing a sound in the distance, the companion lazily bobs through the air towards the commotion. The person is unfamiliar to Splat and is uninteresting in his actions. The cub looks fun though. Whizzing forward, the Darkling circles the head of the cub, the edges of his form rippling to catch her attention. Edmund Reborn In Fire