Fenrir
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He was itching for a fight. His slaughter had been no more than that, a slaughter. They posed no threat, no challenge, and as a result the initial buzz he had received from the act had already vanished. Even the excitement of getting revenge on Tessa – the end of which had come not an hour earlier – was fading fast. He noted, with great disappointment, that his time with her had not been half as enjoyable as his night with Nazara. He was aware of the fluctuations of pleasure that occurred between partners, but he had never experienced one so great before. It troubled him.

Bah! This generation of humans is stagnant and dull. I need a challenge. I need- He smirked to himself, a deep growl rumbling in the base of his throat. I need to find a light scion.

Of course there were problems with this. The goodly counterparts probably wouldn’t be wandering around flashing their auras. Nazara was the one with the knack for sensing them, not him. I expect she won’t take too kindly to me flashing mine either. He sighed at the thought. He hated to hide his aura, it felt cowardly, and he was no coward. He flaunted his aura, let it blaze like a beacon in the minds of his enemies. It was easier that way. That way they came to him. They always came to him. Being tracked could dampen my own plans. He scowled. That would be the most unpleasant of things. He closed his eyes and focused on shutting off his aura. And I didn’t even get to ride my horse into town. For a moment, Fenrir allowed himself the disappointment. He did love to do that.

Hidden, he frowned. What is there to do now? What fun can be had in this city? A devious thought crossed his mind then. What problem could there be if his fun took place outside of the city? And if memory served, there was scion who loved to live on such outskirts. One that he had clashed with many times in the past as a result of his desire to wander into the neighbouring towns and villages in search of women and possessions. Tsanjel.

The prospect of tangling with the scion of darkness once more filled him with cool excitement. But how to get there…He saw it and at once knew two things: it was a thing of beauty, and he had to have it. It was his temperament in four-wheeled form. Sleek and black, the front dipped, headlights like focused eyes. This was the car for him. This would be the first thing he pillaged.

Karik didn’t know a thing about hotwiring a car and he didn’t want to risk damaging such a fine vehicle so Fenrir waited. Twenty minutes passed in torturous slowness. More than once he considered finding another vehicle but that felt too much like admitting defeat. Besides, he wanted that car. And Fenrir always got what he wanted. At last, the driver emerged and as he opened the door to his car, the dark scion was on him. He was a lithe thing. Pathetic and weak. All money and no power; Fenrir’s least favourite type of human. He threw the boy against the wall of the building behind them. “I’m taking this,” he said, simply, and grabbed the keys from his hand. This host better know how to drive. He stuck the key in the ignition and turned. A glorious roar erupted from the beast beneath him and he flexed his hands over the steering wheel, grinning as the sound brought forth the memories of dull lessons. Good thing Karik knew how to pay attention. He pulled the car’s door closed and drove off towards the outskirts.

* * *
He drove on instinct, hoping that his gut would lead him to his target. The car groaned at him when he was forced to take it off-road and after a few minutes of listening to it protest, he parked and continued his search on foot. He preferred it this way. He could still remember, at the very start, when mankind was still figuring out how the world worked, how he had hunted with them. It was so long ago it felt more like a dream he might have had as a child but a deeper part of him retained the lessons. Buried somewhere in his subconscious was the art of tracking. And when he came upon a lone set of footprints, he knew exactly how to follow them.

At tall man awaited him at the end of the trail and though Fenrir hadn’t expected to find a man of such height, neither was he intimidated by it. If anything, the sight pleased him, for he knew that no ordinary man could have attained such height. A scion had to be before him.

The man was pointing a spear in Fenrir’s direction. He had been waiting for the fire scion’s arrival, and Fenrir guessed that the wind had betrayed him. It didn’t bother him though; he preferred to face his enemy head on. “Who are you?”

Fenrir spread his arms wide and grinned. “An old opponent.”

The man merely narrowed his eyes. “I have no business with you, whoever you are.”

“Perhaps not. But I have business with you, Tsanjel.” Fenrir grinned as the man twitched at the sound of his true name. He shifted his left foot, steadying his balance in case an attack came. He was wary of his surroundings, open to the battlefield. Daylight was still strong, and the shadows were limited, narrowing the ways the scion could attack him. And he was wary of the river which ran alongside him. It was unlikely that it could be used to render him powerless but it could be inconvenient if he lost sight of its presence. “I didn’t take too kindly to the way you ended our last encounter and I’d like a little revenge.” He could feel his awareness sharpening. The lighter in his back pocket pressed against him, reminding him of the power it could lend should he need it. He wasn’t expecting to. His fists could do enough for now. “So, what say you to getting down to business?”




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TAG Blade
Also, for anyone who wants to see, the car Fenrir stole is this one.