Bonesplinter Ravine danka seido

Kyn’s bloodlust is only partially satisfied after the victory against the poor, dark stranger. Still, even now he thinks of his audience. His wife, oh so beautiful, desire written on her face — an expression that lights a fire in both his heart snd his loins. Vein, polite and helpful as usual, but at the time he wanted nothing such. Though the act was appreciated, his need to win Simmik back was even more desperate than he would’ve thought. Lastly, Satsu. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, attempting to stay mostly hidden. He remembers seeing the surprise and perhaps horror in her expression. Though, he can’t really be surprised. When they killed the deer he can recall her seeming the slightest bit uncomfortable. The poor girl hasn’t seen anything such as this here yet, while the other may be used to it and all knowing, she is not.

This is why the Grandmaster decides to seek her out. Maybe to make sure she’s alright. Perhaps to ensure she wouldn’t like leave after such a gruesome sight. Either way, he wants to dog in her head, find out, and ensure her place here in the Saints. After all, once a Saint, always a Saint — until death do you part. Whether it’s natural or by Kynareth’s teeth, it matters not.

So he tracks her scent, smiling fondly once he finds it and follows deftly behind her. It only takes him a solid few minutes to have her beautiful form in his sights and he can’t help but allow his smile to grow. She seems out of breath though and he trots up lazily next to her, brushing the crown of his head against her neck and shoulder in a friendly greeting. 

“Satsu, my love,” He hums conversationally. “why’re you so out of breath?” He asks with a hint of comedic relief in his tone. Golden eyes shining at her with his usual gleam of mysterious content. 

He can’t help the lustful way he looks at her. Canary orbs a pinch too dark as he watches her chest heave. His mind supplies him with much dirtier thoughts, so to quench his metaphorical thirst, he runs a dark tongue over whiskered lips. The same lips, tongue, and teeth that was previously splattered with the blood of another — another just like them.