It was getting more and more difficult to keep everything under control. Alex had had these vampiric urges for the last decade and a half, so this wasn't anything new, but before he had the devil on his shoulder telling him who to feed on, who he couldn't, how often, and basically decided his feeding schedule for him as if he were a common housecat.
Since he had returned to Destarin, Alex had been doing a fairly decent job at sticking to animals - nothing that looked like a pet, because that would make him too upset, but fish were fair game. Animals in the woods - deer were preferable, and kept him on his toes since they were so fast, and big enough for him to feel satiated. The difference between animal and human was palpable, though, and very much not the same... unfortunately it was only a matter of time before these urges got the better of him.
But while he was hunting in the woods, in the early night, the scent of blood - human blood - hit his nose like an ocean wave. He could feel his teeth swell, feel the veins around his eyes rise. It was so much - logically, there must have been some sort of accident to cause this, but he wasn't thinking logically. He was thinking with his teeth.
Stalking in the night, the dark being no issue for him, he happened upon a young man, covered in blood. Though Alex would never want to hurt a human, his predatory nature was taking over and he was blinded to that fact. He just saw what appeared to be an injured man, and he could help finish the job.
He crouched, staying low, and darted from behind one tree to the next, reddened eyes locked on the figure as he slowly crept forward.
@fledgendinthemaking
He hadn't meant for it. Like he hadn't meant for so much to happen, lately. But, like all that - tonight had happened. Disastrously.
Fighting the unhelpful, half-mad urge to scrub the blood from his face with what was left of his threadbare sleeves, Tig staggered away from the farm fields and paddocks of Destarin, deeper into the forest. Anywhere further from any beaten path, or any path beaten by mortal feet, at least. Water. All he needed was water, and it couldn't be far. (Could it? Gods, no, please.)
His head snapped up, around, as Tig followed his nose. Given that his nose was a sense rather separate from balance, though, the going was painfully slow. He could manage, still. Could bite down on his tongue, refuse to let his monstrous tongue sneak out to taste the poacher on his lips, his cheeks. His chest, too, soaking through his worn-thin layers. The blood had spattered so far, so fast, so wildly, as that poor stranger wailed and tore away...
He bit tighter, something of those dreadful fangs to it. No. He wouldn't taste human blood tonight. That would surely destroy whatever chance he had of becoming himself again, whole again, and - a throaty, near-animal groan of relief broke through the panic and pain clenched between his teeth as he skidded down a mossy embankment to a splashing, soaking stop. His knees struck riverbed stone and muck. The water he sunk his whole, gory face in was cold, colder than he was, but wonderful. Wonderful, just to be free of the stink, the lure, of that fucking blood. Gasping - as if he needed breath - Tig teetered back onto his haunches. And sluiced another few handfuls up and over his face, for good measure. Should clean his tunic, as well. But... chin up, dripping river, he stared about at the dark.
What would have been dark, if he weren't able to see with these damned sluagh-eyes. He could see, and he could smell, with that sluagh-nose. Hear, with these sluagh-ears. As for what he could see and smell and hear, it was enough. Simply enough to send him bolting and scrambling up the riverbank and away, frantic, through the trees.
