Manny Slayne
The Floodflow- Basin Square
Time Unknown (Morning)
The air was fresh and cool. Despite the haze of the day, there was a sweet breeze that seemed to drift from the river, coating his body in an almost maternal comfort.
Wonderland was accepting him. That may have just been an amusing fantasy, but some primal part of Manny was sure that was true. That demon he had killed had bled sweet, died wonderfully, but many who entered wonderland slew the strange creatures that permeated its depths. Killing a man though...slaying a Hero...It was if the land itself gave blessing to his actions.
The smell of blood...
That same cool breeze seem to respectfully carry the tantalizing iron tang to his nose, into his mouth. The taste of wounded prey...
...Or so he was meant to believe. Manny's lips rose over his canines. So much blood...it was meant as bait.
Manny remembered. His loins, already full of fire and blood, somehow stiffened even further as his mind's eye replayed the last few minutes. It was with a significant effort that Manny stopped his imagination from stopping to savor the moment of death. Of ownership. No, that wasn't what he was remembering. He remembered still earlier, when the Beast and the Boy had briefly become one, and even before that.
He remembered that prey had tried to save prey.
He remembered that his prey had been able to cast healing magic.
Whatever injury she had experienced...Manny could already see it. She must have floundered to her feet, stricken, already grieving. Maybe she had crawled for a time, gripped by some mindless compulsion to flee where tragedy had visited a friend and would soon befall her as well if she did not escape. There was a tumble of dirt where she had perhaps overbalanced, fallen, cut herself. Manny expected that it was likely this moment where she had regained her cognitions, remembered herself, marshalled her inner resources and used whatever strange magics she possessed.
Ah little fox. It must have been here, at this moment, that you also decided to kill me.
...Delicious.
Manny Slayne was a bringer of death. And has someone who understood death, he remembered that there were 5 stages. The first was denial, but it seemed the little fox had swiftly run over that. No, he could feel her anger. Her rage, it was as strewn along her path as much as was her blood. And far more honest. She covered her grief with fury. Perhaps vengeance would be the appropriate description.
Little Fox...I will show you death.
The mistake the other beast, the boy Manny had devoured was in not allowing himself to become a monster. In the end, he had continued to be a hero. The girl's mistake...Rage was a poor substitute for malice. Hatred, powerful as it was, had never been a match for pure, cold murderous evil. Her anger burned white and hot, warming her but controlling her actions, setting her pace. Manny's fire had long since frozen. Even back in the real world Manny had patient sat next to his chilled killing intent, honing it. Forging it into perfect...clarity.
Manny had spent years holding back the desire to kill until the timing was perfect. This little fox, fearsome though her very true desire for death was, could not match this feat. She wanted Manny dead, so she egged him on, called him out, despite her weakness. Despite her injuries and the shock and horror of loss, she nonetheless sounded the horn of battle.
Manny crouched slightly as he followed the path. His steps slowed slightly, testing the ground for the slightest vibrations, hearing the wind and voice of Wonderland. In a deliberate but controlled stalk he prowled, seeking the hunter and hunted, willing to be both himself in turn. He would pit his killing intent vs her grief, and let Wonderland judge the most pure.
Let your rage burn hot, little fox. Let me show you the difference between us.
...This is what it means to kill something.