Trost der Nacht

[emery sinclair.]

For:

---

[/I].

The only things that had passed, though, that even looked like they might be edible, were what even the wolves wouldn’t bother with; skinny, starved little lambs, probably from some farmer’s flock a few miles off. A housecat. A litter of feral kittens. A Lukoi pup, lost, returning to her pack’s home, but Sinclair could honestly say he never once considered her a potential candidate for food, as killing her might very well mean he’d have her family on his back the moment they found out, and while he was strong, he certainly wasn’t strong enough to overpower a pack of five, maybe six werewolves — no, he let her pass, nestling himself in deeper into the trench he had managed to hide himself in, downwind of any potential prey that might pass by and getting bored of all of the waiting. The only comfort was that he’d go home smelling good, being surrounded for so long by such a nice crop of lilacs. Lolita would be pleased when he got home, as she loved stroking him, snuggling him within an inch of his life after his late-night, monthly hunts, if she was still awake. Ergh, he’d have to pay the babysitter an illegal amount of money if he stayed out any longer. Not that that was a problem, but he was sure that the capricious high schooler’s parents weren’t comfortable with their kid staying over at a strange man’s house for double-digit hours at a time, even if she was just watching his child.

A small sound caught the back of his subconscious and Sinclair raised his head, molten lapis lazuli eyes flicking toward the origin of the noise, too subtle to pinpoint clearly; it was a scent he did not recognize, which was strange in itself, but God, Sinclair was famished, and with the pull of the moon making his head swim in deliciously animalistic ways, how could one expect him to react otherwise? A memory, something like muscle memory, turned a switch in his mind and suddenly, Sinclair was acutely aware of the fallow deer’s fear, of nearly every muscle and tendon and vein straining against the soft grass carpet of the grassland, her neck bowed to near a small patch of weeds to serve as a midnight snack. She was aware of him, but was unfamiliar with his threat; her breaths were short and stressed, and she forwent grazing to better focus on the scent that she had apparently picked up at the same time that he had. All at once, Sinclair knew this might very well be his last chance at a satisfying meal for the night, and he really fucking wanted her blood on his face, just to remind himself how much he missed this. Normal Sinclair, bipedal Sinclair might have paled at such a thought, but the animal didn’t care — all four of his legs were taut as copper wires, his own breath was coming out in short, shallow puffs as he watched her, saliva accumulating under his tongue, mind swimming in something Emery Sinclair — no longer Emery Sinclair but simply the tiger — could only liken to something akin to lust.

Showtime. With one bound, the tiger had unraveled himself from the cocoon of shrubbery he’d been entombed in and leapt, teeth bared, a savage roar lodged in the back of his impressive voice box. The chase was over two seconds before it had even begun: the deer bleated once, choked, spasmed in Sinclair’s grip as he swung her around until she finished whining, crushed her windpipe to pulp even after he was certain she was dead, slammed her to the ground and proceeded to rip her open by her seam. The next few seconds were a phantasmagoric blur, his face shoved into her gut and tearing her apart from the inside out until the fur on his mane and chest and ears were a lurid maroon, hardening into cakey rust-brown stains mid-gorging, snapping bones and pawing away the gristle until that was all that remained, whereupon Sinclair stepped back from the scene, licked his chops, his paws, and stood over the remains of the deer, the tiger-equivalent of a smirk over his face. Mm. Full moons should really be more common, he thought, or might have thought, considering forming rational statements seemed out of his power right now. No, this was definitely no India, but it did the job credibly.

One might assume that since Sinclair was so rapt in his self-proclaimed victory, he was oblivious to everything else. While that might have been true on some level, being an animal had quite the perks; movement in the surrounding area caught his attention and Sinclair lowered himself to the ground again, turning in the direction of where it had come. If he cared that he looked like the perfect beast right now, he didn’t care — the tiger bared his teeth and growled, warning the intruder to show itself before things got ugly.

And oh, they would get ugly.[/ul]

[daisuke takashima.]

Daisuke crouched low to the grasslands floor as he eyed the Were he had seen, warily. His large, almond-shaped golden eyes were fixated on the creature as it seemed to be standing just as stock still as he. Auds flicked back and then were brought to the front again as a small movement or a loud breath caught his attention from said Were. The golden grasses hid his own lean body from view of the other and for that he was grateful. He had been out hunting, stomach still complaining of hunger even now, when he had spotted this Were out and about in the Lukoi territory as well. Their presence made him wary and ever more careful about where he took his next step, for even as he was a great beast in himself, anything could be mistaken for food. At first he had thought the other had been some form of prey, but as his eyesight had adjusted, he realized he had made an incorrect assumption. This creature was a feline just like Daisuke himself. He could see that by the other having hid theirself in the underbrush on the outskirts of the grasslands that they were not a lion as he was. More than likely a tiger or something… The thought was more of just a passing one as he tried to turn his attention elsewhere. The creature seemed not to notice him anyhow, so why should he take care to watch them? After all, hunger was a more pressing concern than trying to figure out whatever that creature may be. If it’s not food, then he needed to leave it be.

Paws pressing deep into the earth below him, his sinewy body kept low to the ground as he stalked within the grasslands now so familiar to him, stomach fur brushing the dirt ever so slightly. If he wanted to keep himself hidden, he needed to stay down as far as possible for even while the grasses were starting to turn golden due to autumn, they had yet to do it fully and as such couldn’t hide his sleek golden pelt as good as he would have liked. Especially with the full moon glowing up above and sending long lines of pale moonlight down onto him. It was times like these he wished he wasn’t so fussy about the condition of his fur. Perhaps if he paid less attention to it he wouldn’t glow as he seemed to under the light, even if it was only a soft and subdued one. If he hadn’t been on a hunting expedition he might have thought on that topic a bit more and really thought about applying it, but since he was, the scent of a prey animal drifted to his nose and cut off all thoughts previously within his brain. All logic went out the window as instinct took over and his gaze flicked in the direction the scent had wafted from.

His golden hues locked onto the target, a deer, and ears flicked forward to listen for any form of movement coming from the creature or any indication that it knew of his presence. The scent of fear was practically radiating off it’s body and fueled the urge to attack and kill in Daisuke’s now primal mind. His human form, the more kind-hearted of the two beasts living within, would have recoiled at such thoughts running rampant through his mind. His stomach was so empty that his mind only registered that one deer in his line of sight now and was oblivious to the creature that had it’s eyes on the deer as well. Visions of killing the poor prey creature and feasting on it’s entrails blotted his mind from everything. He thought that perhaps he could even taste it’s blood on his tongue already; the thought enough to make him lip his whiskered lips hungrily. Only this time of the month, during the cursed full moon, would he ever think to indulge in such an act of killing. His normal self, so reserved and peace-loving, would never think to do this any other time. No, it wasn’t that he outright hated to do such a thing considering he was born and raised as the creature he was today, but more or less he had grown accustomed to the “human” way of life. He ate human food, had a human job, and even had attended human schools. His morals rested as a human. But instinct couldn’t be suppressed always and that was a lesson Daisuke had learned well. That in order to survive and not be torn apart by his other half, he needed to give it what it needed as well. And what it needed was to kill.

Large body coiled like a spring, he waited for the precise moment to strike. The deer would not catch his scent anytime soon, but his stomach was complaining of not having eaten since the previous night and had him more ready to pounce than usual. His paws were twitching slightly with the urge as he crouched there and waited with a patience known only to predators. His ears flicked back and forth tensely, nostrils flared to catch the fear scent so driving him now, tail thrashed slightly behind him, though careful only to stay close to his body, and when the moment was right he crouched even lower and…Roar! The impressive sound cut through the night, but it had not come from Daisuke as he had pounced. It was from the large beast previously hidden within the underbrush that Daisuke had forgotten about.

In hearing such a thing out of the blue by another creature, Daisuke straightened almost immediately, coming out of the tall grass dangerously. As he realized what he had done, however, he crouched yet again, growling under his breath at the other creature. His ears laid back on his head and his eyes were half-lidded in predatorial anger at having his kill be taken by another. The kill had been his dammit and he wanted it. Of course that was only his lion side speaking. His human side was actually relieved the kill had been taken right out from under his nose. It would mean a longer hunt and a delay on killing.

As he turned to stalk off, though, he noticed the tiger turn their attentions on him. He could feel their feline gaze and it made his skin crawl underneath his fur. The following growl sent a chill down his spine because he knew it was aimed at him. Were they asking a challenge of him or merely were they trying to see what he was? He really didn’t have the want to find out, but the growl had promised none too nice things should he not show himself. So much to his dislike, he turned and stalked closer to the tiger, it’s face stained with the blood of the kill. His kill. This thought made him want to growl a response, but instead he brought his body to it’s full height, which wasn’t too much, so as the other could see him. His appearance was nothing too special. He looked just like your average lion, though one might have a hard time deciding whether he was indeed a lion or a lioness. In this form, his body had yet to mature enough to warrant a mane more than a few long strands that could easily be mistaken for a female’s mane just messed up. How he disliked the fact that he couldn’t escape being feminine in either form. It was rather unsettling.

Instead of speaking as he stood before the other creature, as if he could if he wanted to, he just remained calm and looked at them. Occasionally he glanced at the deer and was reminded of his waning hunger, but he didn’t want to bring attention to the fact he’d been going after the deer as well. Should he do that, then he would basically be asking for a challenge, and when it came to fighting, not only did Daisuke not like to fight, but he really didn’t have much body strength or fighting ability at all. Not that he really cared, but in times like these it was rather nice to know you could actually back yourself up should you slip and accidentally challenge someone.

[emery sinclair.]

[/I], perhaps? He definitely couldn’t tell by sight, and he wasn’t familiar enough in exotic animal scents to even chance at a guess) that had appeared, surprised more than he’d like to admit that he’d been caught off guard. If anything, he was expecting something like a oppossum, certainly nothing to the caliber of a cat whose size might very well match his own. In fact, the hairs of his mane and all along his back stood up straight on end, his tail twitched and what little self-control he had left was again shoved into the back seat as he drew himself up to his full height, stared down the intruder with pure, unabridged malice, nonplussed and unwilling to leave the scene of his victory just because someone decided to drop in to kill his fun. It was mildly amusing, though, that at least he wasn’t alone in this full-moon compulsion, and Sinclair might have smiled if there was anything remaining in him right now that would have smiled. No, that was a human thing, and there was nothing human about this tiger, not right now.

He stepped forward, unsure of what he was going to do, but wanting to do something. The lion, it didn’t look too dangerous, although Sinclair knew from watching too many National Geographic specials that lionesses could, using their innate ability to utilize practicality in large numbers, concoct the kind of pack-effort that even wolves would be jealous of. The tiger knew he would be no match for such an attack if this kid was a decoy, even if Sinclair couldn’t recall ever having heard of lions in town, much less a working pride. But he was fed, felt fat, needed to assert himself over this whelp that had so brazenly stepped into his area without considering that a well-fed tiger was not necessarily a happy tiger. Quite frankly, Sinclair wasn’t looking for cutesy conversation at this point, having decided that a single lion didn’t present enough of a threat to warrant anything past apprehension. It seemed just his luck that the other wasn’t one of those fight-mongering cats, because if anything, the tiger knew he could use a good scuffle right now — at least when he could still blame his uncharacteristic behavior on the moon when he woke up in the morning to whatever evidence of tonight still on him.

Breath running thin again, Sinclair kept slowly closing the distance between them until he was only a few yards away, and roared. Loudly. It was a challenge, in the most direct way he knew, knowing he looked nothing less than ghastly with deer-entrails all over his front and panting like some crazed weirdo; after all, what kind of lion would appear to him, he thought, without some sort of ulterior motive? Surely, this wasn‘t just an out-of-the-blue invitation to a spat, the other was expecting it, too. …But, even still, this was so bad, even by his standards, and then, again… what did he care? Ugh. He’d already made the confrontation, though, so there seemed to be no other choice but to go on with his original plans. Lowering his head in a menacing stance, the tiger bared his teeth, advanced further on Daisuke with every intention of launching at him as soon as the challenge was accepted or declined. Er… maybe not if he declined, but that seemed highly unlikely considering the circumstances.

An expectant growl. The ball was totally in the lion’s court.
[/ul]

[daisuke takashima.]

All thoughts that perhaps this little meeting between himself and the tiger was not going to escalate into fighting was quickly shooed from his brain as the other feline roared. Daisuke's lion instinct knew instantly this was a challenge, so what should he do? An inner war raged as his human side tried telling his feline side to back off and just high tail it out of there while his feline side felt like staying where it was and challenging this other big cat back. It was a battle that was over quickly, however, as the lion side won out and drew his body up to his full height, chest jutted out slightly to show his pride in himself. Normally Daisuke wasn't like this, but he guessed the full moon had some odd effect of his body that gave his lion side more power than his human side that was usually in control. It was more than a little unnerving to his human morals, but nevertheless they had to take a backseat for the moment.

After drawing himself up to his full height, all the full along his spine standing on end, Daisuke bared his long carnivorous fangs and roared in return. The mere force of the loud roar shook his body and the sound of his loud so loud mildly startled him, but he made no move to show it as he waited to see what the response would be now that he had accepted the challenge. Would the tiger take the first strike or dare him to? It was anybody's move now that both sides had issued a challenge. Daisuke's human side worried that he might get killed in a fight against such a beast. After all, the only time he had ever really came in contact with these felines was during mating season and that's because mating had no set species among the felines. The were ones anyway. Daisuke had found himself drawn to tigresses and leopardesses just as much as lionesses when that season was in full swing.

Thinking about such a thing, Daisuke remembered an encounter he'd had with a tiger during mating season. No, not a tigress, but a tiger. The creature had tried to mount him in thinking he was a female. It had been a simple mistake, but he'd been a bit more on edge that day than most and because of such he remembered swatting the creature's side pretty badly for that. For some reason thinking about that incident had him turning his attention to the tiger's side he was currently facing. The only way that showed was with his eyes, though, and when he noticed claw-like scars on the creature's side he almost broke the vicious appearance he had going for him. It has to be a coincidence. He made sure to catch himself before changing his expression because how menacing would he be with a look of surprise plastered on his face?

There's no way this is the same tiger. The thought seeped into his mind, but he quickly had to shoo it away as an expectant growl escaped the other's maw. Quickly he made a mental note that if they both were on good terms with each other, which was doubtful, after this scuffle they were beyond likely to have, due to his having taken the challenge, he would question the other on where he had obtained those claw-scars he could have swore matched the ones he gave the other tiger that day.