Mount Apikuni The trouble is, you think you have time.

want? 

want was such a simple word. the world seemed to revolve around the premise of what others wanted. the ghoul didn't care for wants or wishes. he was a visceral butcher, and it mattered very little what he wanted. instead, he was more inclined to act on those things he was skilled in. he was working to earn his soul back, after all. he needed the devil to be pleased with his actions. 

not answering her, the ghoul trudged forward and slathered a thick glob of crimson paste from the side of his mouth. it trailed through the dark hairs of his muzzle and then splattered against a pale stone. he coughed - a wet sound - and then lunged without another thought on the matter. his yellowed fangs and dark purple tongue were aimed to snap around the flesh of her shoulder.