Hideaway Strath Bloodsucker

mictec hummed, the sound low and knowing, as if she had already expected this answer. her gaze—steady, sharp, calculating—drifted to the satchel of petals. a dangerous indulgence. a hunger not for food, but for control. for power.  

prophet is too kind of a name be given to one whose ledger bleeds crimson. 

her tail waved lightly, betraying the eagerness of pride that brewed when thinking of the times mercy was expunged from her vocabulary.

i believe we are set on paths that guide us to what we deem ourselves to be a good idea, she mused, voice rich with something just shy of amusement. yet you have to be freed to chase it.

she took a step closer, deliberate but unthreatening, her presence looming in a way that spoke of experience rather than intimidation. she had seen many creatures like this before. some who burned too fast, too recklessly. others who learned to wield the fire, to shape it into something that did not consume them before they could use it.  

now that you are free, do you know what you will do with that freedom?