Sea Lion Shores samsara

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The shaman eyed her warily, unsure of whether or not he should tell her of his practices, but the urge to teach others of his God thrummed within his blood, and he drew himself up. "The blood is a sweet scent in the nostrils of the Dark One, Sos, and it keeps his Loa close to me." Aside from Clarice, Lecter knew no one else who wore blood; it was deemed an unnatural practice.

Understanding what it meant to be independent, and feeling the sting of his present leader against his soul, Lecter merely nodded at his companion. She seemed hale and intelligent; likely she would not succumb to the invitations of pack-life unless it were a necessity for her survival.

"I am Lecter," the pale man grunted abruptly. "Shaman, witch, what have you." His recently cleansed muzzle fell to the sands; the briny fragrance did not hide the recent trail of a small mammal, and with a predator's single-minded intent, he followed.

A cold glance along his flank alighted on the woman; he was not adverse to her company, strangely enough, but would not beg her to hunt with him.

set by sophie