Aspiring Sociopath [ open ]

He turned away from the steep sloop, placing his haunches on the rocky edge. "Ira is gone." Crocell spoke, "my sister is dead."
He was startled by a pleasant intruder. No one should be here, this is my forest. He thought in a huff.
"So the fucking bitch jumped?" the intruder was familiar to Crocell. He spent many nights recalling her voice, their sweet harmonic conversation. He knew this intruder and welcomed her company.
"Or did you push her?" the intruder said standing. The intruder was a tri-colored mutt, a beautiful one.
Crocell arose to her words, head watching her movements. The intruder stood close to the edge, peering down into it's mouth. There you could see the dane's limp body, crushed at impact body parts scattered around. "That was my greatest lover to date."
He failed to enlighten the intruder with a detail that could have stopped the next few words.
"Real shame. Looks pretty, lonely all the way down there." Crocell gave a quick nod to the intruder's comment. The next bit made him laugh, only a tad. "So tasty too, with her brains scattered about! The brain is the best part you know. That, and the liver. Other parts are tasty too... But those, are the best warm, and fresh."
He stood there for a moment, before his damaged leg forced him to sit back down. The leg wasn't broken, just bruised from the abuse it received. The escapee smashed it with her full body weight, before Crocell fell on sharp rocks.
"Of course Darling." Crocell spoke, "I hope you remember me. I remember you, Balam"
He flashed a wicked smile towards her, remembering their deal. "Darling dear, you owe me something."
Crocell stood once more, not giving into what his leg demanded. The pebbles under his pads made a crunching noise, like someone eating cereal. Every pebble crunching step, he drew himself closer to the one he longed for.
"Are you ready for Crocell?" He mocked.

'words, 330
notes, i guess it is an OK post.
tags, Balam,OPEN

Tick-cock.
Crocell waltzed around the dame like the host of a sophisticated party. He knew how to be classy, even gallant. He carried himself with confidence.
"Do I? What makes you think Death's Bitch would stay loyal to a 'promise'? What makes you think I'll give you, anything?" His ears rang from the sharp let down.
Crocell wasn't giving up, not yet.
"What makes you think Death won't take your life for the bitches life you took? What makes you think I'll actually let you go if you don't?" He snapped, fiery in his eyes. Crocell was good at keeping composure, like a real gentleman should. He also had spitfire rage, small portions of his bottled anger would be released in three seconds of rage. After, Crocell would straighten himself out and smile, sickly.
He listened in content to his fantasy lover.
"Well, Crocell," the dame lead on. His body stiffened as she drew herself near to him, with every swing of her hips. "And if Death's Bitch is a little nervous? She's known nothing but death for years now. Nothing but cold, lifeless bodies, that never complain." Crocell let a noticeable smirk. "Then let me do all the licking for once, Lambshop."
She changed. Crocell had only seconds to react and pause. She snapped wildly into the air, the loud snaps traveled through the Little Crow Forest, eventually they turned into echos in the wind. "You stupid shit!"
He relaxed, moody bitch, he thought.
"You think I'd be a good little bitch, and just turn the fuck around? I'm not my damn mother! Or do you take me for that kind of whore? Because if you do, I swear I'll eat your guts out, while you're still breathing." Crocell was not amused with her plead for a game of hardball. He did know how to catch a hardball, even a extra-hardball but he also knows when he has lost.
He rolled his eyes, balls of fiery raging. "Who fucking cares what I think. You just have to make this whole charade about you. But sense you asked, I do think you should turn right the fuck around and be good"
His spitfire vomit ended as soon as it started. He straightened his back, shaking off the rage. "Did I ask for you to be your mother? No. I asked for you to be Balam. I want you to be Balam, the same freak I obsess over." Crocell gave a little huff, "And Lambshop, No. I think you're an expensive whore."
She whined often, but Crocell could manage whining and let it pass by.
Crocell shook his head in a 'no' to the words the female spat at him as a very intellgant-lame excuse. Crocell wasn't satisfied with her answer. "What makes you think I want the possibility of pups? What makes you think I'd hand myself over to a living breathing male? The last one I fucked taught me a glorious thing called the 'choking game'. I'm positive you've nothing else to add to my list of taboos."
"I know I'm trying to please you and do you right, but you are making that mighty difficult." Crocell spoke, "Did the fucker teach you of alien probing?"