Blackbeak Bluff arachnophobia has left the chat

The leviathan seems to move faster than his brain can keep up, charging forth as if death incarnate followed close behind him. With blind ambition does he follow the scent, void of reason as he moves though one name does ring across all catacombs of thought. “I told you I would see you again.” His baritone sneaks up behind her, prowling forth as he reaches the desired destination before the great drop. Perhaps predatorily he observes her, how she has changed since laying eyes on her last. The familiar drops of stardust have not flickered from her pelt, but slightly worn does she appear; scars littering a once pristine coat. It hurts him, knowing something other than his own claw had left her beat -- that was not the way he wanted it. To him, she remains his possession. Once he had stolen her, broken her, claimed her as his.... the fact she had escaped his grasp did not change the fact the imprint of his canines still graced her neck.