<style type="text/css"> ae {color:#94a3ab; font-size: 10px;} .aebox {background-color: #d5e1ec; width: 500px; margin: auto; background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/vg2CHes.png'); background-repeat: no-repeat; border: 3px solid #94a3ab; outline: 5px solid #2d2a24;} .aetext {margin: auto; width: 350px; color:#2d2a24; text-indent: 15px; font-family: georgia; line-height: 15px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 480px; margin-bottom: 30px;}</style>
It was with a haughty carelessness and predator’s precision that Ira had had been stalking the earth and blood born male whom he knew, mysteriously enough as: Sitri. The pallid Prince followed on the crags above Sitri, steps quiet and light, easier now that Ira was learning to re-control his body in the cusp of manhood, grasped by puberty. Whether the gruesome creature had noticed Ira’s stalking he had yet to draw attention to it and the Princeling kept up with it, lowering his body against the jagged rocks that had formed Silvertip, always on the precipice of it’s treacherous ledges and slippery slopes. He had studied to length of the fall many times, observing that if he were to misstep in carelessness he would plummet to his untimely death; even if it did not bring death upon impact his body would be broken beyond all repair and it would force the wolves of Slivertip — no Jinx (for Ira would not accept death at any other’s jaws) — to end it for him. Lecter’s ominous words of death had not faded from the haughty and insolent Prince’s mind and the consideration that Jinx would mourn the Shaman’s death and the wonderment of if he were to be stupid — though he exercised great caution to avoid that — and find himself in …whatever was next …if she would mourn him too. Jinx had lost too much already and Ira did not want to be a source of any pain she might feel.
He cared about her too much, even if he understood it was a mistake.
Sitri was not what Ira would have ever called handsome, his body too riddled with ugly, old scars, and he had a way about him that always had Ira on edge in the demonic creature’s presence. Jace had been quick to claim that Ira was a demon spawn (and maybe he was borne of the deadly sins) but the Nox Prince wondered what the ebony annoyance would have to say about Sitri. As it was, Jace wasn’t here (Ira was thankful for that) and Ira was left to draw conclusions without assistance, having chosen to study Sitri from afar. He had a penchant for calling Jinx a ‘demon queen’ which had upset her young son on more than one occasion and caused the pre-teen to wonder why he insulted her so. She was a Queen, yes, but there was nothing demonic about her. She was practically an Amazon Goddess and to think of her as anything less was degrading as far as Ira was concerned. His belly scraped low against the ledge that lingered close to where Sitri had decided to stop and gaze out at the vast landscapes beyond them. It was a scenic view, admittedly. He drew in a soft breath, the air always thinner the higher he had climbed and required a little more work of his lungs.
Crystalline blue eyes like ice regarded the Epsilon harshly as Ira contemplated how hostile Sitri would become if the Prince decided to break his silence — unless Sitri had been aware he had a ghost shadowing him. If he was, then Ira needed to brush up on his assassination skills a bit more. They had been a little neglected when he had been consumed with his relationship with Bones but her continued absence left the Prince with a lot of free space in his schedule that he had to fill up somehow.