Lost Creek Hollow soul cleave

with a dark twinkle flashing deep from wells of inkjet, stigmata thought he saw life yet in the ragged beast -- an asset worth having if he had anything left in that ghoulish shell to give. he let the shadow skulk nearer, and the truncheon he had serving as his tail wagged slow in invitation. he returned what boundaries he was given: sniffing over the haunting male as thoroughly as he was allowed.

standing back, he lifted his tail and made a slight motion to the silent male, showing a cool eagerness to steer the wicked eidolon into his caste.