he did not expect the girl to be new to bloodshed … new to the bloodlust that accompanied the ‘ gift ‘ given to the select few who were deemed worthy. oh how ironic it was to be called a gift — a gift. a gift. the thought is burned bitterly in his mind… he had been told it was a gift, but it was nothing more than a twisted curse. it drew the naive in, those who thought the world could offer something better, but — he cuts off his own thoughts. he need not delve into his own bitter feelings.
“ it’s not mine. “ he speaks cooly, clear blue eyes meeting those of his shield-sister. he wipes the blood from his mouth… he can still taste it. metallic, thick — gaze falls.
he had not given into the call of his blood, of the beast blood… but oh how it made his own blood boil. it boiled with a lust for battle, for blood. it unlocked a certain — ferocity. adrenaline. he had been disarmed, his blade discarded & replaced with his fists … it had been a bandit who thought himself a mage. the damned idiot hadn’t known what to expect when vilkas threw his fist without blade. how he had been unafraid of the prospect of being found at the end of a blade, how he had sunk his teeth into the flesh of his neck, ripping the flesh from his body & letting the blood spray all over vilkas’ armor.
it had been thrilling, in a sickening way. he didn’t want to think about it.
“ it doesn’t matter who it belonged to. “
