To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive

His current avatar is a little dark, but Szymon is white. ♥

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The pleasure Szymon felt at Jagoda’s display of utter submission was heady and dizzying; it burned in his belly and coursed lower still, electric and addictive. He could afford to be magnanimous — he could forgive his littermate’s disgruntled expression and furious retort — but he didn’t dare let his guard down. Easing away from Jagoda, Szymon kept his bloodied fangs bared and his ears thrust aggressively forward upon his crown, a rumbling growl continuing to seethe in his throat as his tail curled stiffly over his bristling spine and hips. There was something within the youngest Cairn that wanted to keep going — wanted to shove his littermate into the sand and force him to beg for the mercy he’d never afforded Szymon — but the Leviathan and his Akhlut had lost so much and the ginger-laced male was weighed down with tragedy.

Stilling the displeased snarl that lent his bass timbre a fierce, guttural quality, “What do you want, Jagoda,” Szymon questioned flatly, the words drumming like a funeral dirge from his lips. “Skellige is gone.” He stared at his brother, unblinking and impassive but for the baleful glint in his golden eyes.

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