[ Needed to. For sport, of course. He drinks his blood from gold and crystal goblets, blood spiced with wine and not the other way around, but it's for pleasure, not sustenance. This - he hasn't felt this pain in centuries, and it contorts his features into something more animalistic, all of his teeth turning sharp as he clutches himself and a pair of white, leathery wings erupt from his back to encircle him protectively.
He manages to look up at her, briefly, the delicate bones exposed from beneath flesh in places, her concern an afterthought. His instincts and senses register her as undead, unsuitable for feeding. In the back of his struggling, harried mind, he knows this means he won't attack her like a rabid animal, but those thoughts are so far buried beneath the red haze and the regret that seems to hold him like a vice. ]
no subject
[ Needed to. For sport, of course. He drinks his blood from gold and crystal goblets, blood spiced with wine and not the other way around, but it's for pleasure, not sustenance. This - he hasn't felt this pain in centuries, and it contorts his features into something more animalistic, all of his teeth turning sharp as he clutches himself and a pair of white, leathery wings erupt from his back to encircle him protectively.
He manages to look up at her, briefly, the delicate bones exposed from beneath flesh in places, her concern an afterthought. His instincts and senses register her as undead, unsuitable for feeding. In the back of his struggling, harried mind, he knows this means he won't attack her like a rabid animal, but those thoughts are so far buried beneath the red haze and the regret that seems to hold him like a vice. ]
I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...