Arrow Lake good evening, clarice

hey sexy thing

He was shaken from his reverie — Lecter had forgotten he was heading for his hut — by a youthful voice. His head swiveled 'round, icewater eyes coming to rest with baleful scorn on the one who had spoken. He was young, this wolf, full of cheeriness and intent to help this seemingly bloodied madman standing inexplicably in a shaft of sunlight.

Lecter grinned.

Aid? he mocked, turning to face the earthen-hued little fool. If you can bring back the darkness, I suppose I will be indebted to you. The shaman's eyes narrowed. But I doubt that you can do such a thing. Stupid creature. Lecter appraised the boy with the flat glitter of madness in his iced glare, and found that it was the youth's very demeanour that annoyed him so greatly.

The hackles along his shoulder prickling beneath their blanket of gore, the pale madman sneered, yellowed teeth flashing in a grin that was all but pleasant. So innocent, with the stink of birth still matted into your fur. Get away from me, from this place, lest you find yourself quite unable to return to your ... dragon-seers, or whatever fool name you have given yourself.