Volatile Frienimies![CLOSED]

Clangs echoed down a sword scarred alley-way. The place was littered in tipped garbage cans, and their contents. The largest source of light in the darkness was the occasional flash of sparks, peppering the alleyways in a sharp light for a split second and a short distance. It was eerily silent, save an occasional grunt of pure anguish, and clang of swords, scraping through stone, brick, and metal.

It had been an hour long struggle, but she was just getting started. Just like a cat, she had a razor focus for things. Relentless till the end. Her will was an endless font restricted only by the limits of her body, and even those were occasionally overlooked for the sake of better things. She didn't mind the amount of energy she had spent. But even still, she would prefer...


THAT THAT DAMN BUTTERFLY HAD JUST STAYED STILL FOR THE FIRST STROKE!!

Errante had finally lost the deadbeat teacher. He was sick and tired of such uneventful days, memories of the rooftop encounter with some fellows and a gal; all of whom he had deemed rather boring, had long faded. The gangly male was aching, having not had a decent meal in days. The cafeteria didn't quite serve the sweet meat he so desired, in fact the police had seen to it that he'd be put on a vegetarian menu. Provided by the school. It made him sick to the bone.

The lilac haired man shambled through the alleyways, in search of a food source. He believed he'd found one, the song of swords had been echoing from this part of town for a while now.

"Swords won't let me get bored... Where there's flesh there's prey... and with so much noise there must be at least a hand to munch on by now... doubt that would fill me up though...eh...ehehehehehehehe... I wonder if they'll both attack me or just one? Maybe there's more than two, how fun? Maybe one's got a gun, gun, gun...hahahahahaha...No how silly, I've not heard the bang bangs. Just the slish, slashes. I prefer slish slashes, keeps the meat nice and clean..."

The boy continued to drone on aimlessly, lugging the heavy piece of metal that was his weapon on the ground behind him; making a loud racket as a line was carved in the concrete. He rounded a corner to find not two combatant but one... well technically two, there was a butterfly as well. How strange, this place was such a mess, butterflies don't even have good meat on them. Don't even taste of butter.

"...Flutter bye... butterfly... time to die... wouldn't make a good pie... bet she'll think I'm not a nice guy... how rude... silly blue haired girl... I demand an apology, how dare you say I'm not a nice guy. I should cut your head off and drink your blood for such insolence... I might... maybe...I wonder...possibly...meh...guess it'd be cool...bit short, not much meat on you."

An unquantifiable number of thoughts flooded through Errante's head, questioning how the girl's hair was so blue, how she chased a butterfly down an alleyway without it flying away, but atop all those thoughts stood one; why was she being so vicious. It made him practically giddy to see such a thing. So inhumane. So out there. So... respectable. If Errante wanted to kill a butterfly, which he guessed he one day might, he'd probably do it in the same fashion she was. Violently and messily, just like all of his battles.

The mad boy cocked his head to the side, running his empty hand down his dress as if to flatten it or dust it off; pale blue eyes locked-on her movements. Taking in all he could of her fighting style. If he did decide to eat this one it was best he knew how to prepare her... although... a sharp hole in the chest worked for most normal people... but normal people don't carry swords... oh well, he'd like to toy with this little play thing for a while before eating it. Make her flesh taste super sweet.

Zev continued to swing as the odd sight of a person drew into view. Her arms were a blurred amalgamation of aggression. Had the target been literally anything else, it would have looked a lot like an abused pile of ribbons by now. With every stroke the elegant bug simply flew with the flow of the air, and ended itself up mere centimeters away from the oh so hungry blades. She was balanced low to the ground, and her strikes were certainly more spastic than elegant. She was completely relentless.

Zev's head snapped to meet the direction of the sword scrapping the ground, and wielder. A ma-... Wom-... A person with bright oddly lilac hair. Her eyes wide like a surprised cat, darted over the figures form, quickly summing up what she could. Her body was froze with alertness, ready to dart away, or lash out in a parry and strike. For an everlasting moment her eyes were locked on, pupils wide to take in everything.

Remembering, she quickly turned to the bug, watching it flutter away, and giving a few more desperate strikes before sinking to sit on the ground. "Aaaaaagh! That's twice!!" She yelled, giving a small whimper as her nemesis escaped again. "Whaddya want!?" She demanded with a childish pout up at the stranger.

Errante stared along Ragnrock's black edge, "She's a bit more normal isn't she Ragnarock, asking the right question to... what do you say?... How lazy, silence... can you hear his screams butterfly warrior? This blade has been quiet for months now. His mouth won't move. Don't you find that lazy?"

His pale blue eyes bored into hers, as if looking through them toward the innermost workings of her mind, though in actuality he was staring right past her; "So, what do I want? What do I want?... What...do...I...want...power beyond compare? No, too simple. Too brainless. Unimaginable wealth? No, too childish. A meal? No, one will not do... What do I want?... I think I want an experience..."

The thin boy hunched over slightly, giggling, "Yes! That's what I want! Above all else! To have an experience and let others share in it! To revel in it! To love it! To die during it! But, most importantly, to feast during it!"

The boy swayed from side to side, like the last leaf on a tree at the end of Autumn; clinging to life;"I want it all! I want wealth power, and food! I want insight! I want to be within every mind, on every street corner! Within every home! I want to control all! I want the world to stop spinning!"

The boy then stared up, eyes transfixed on the butterfly as it flew off for the sky, "What was I saying?...Ah well, it doesn't matter. As a Don all that I remember is all that matters. No time for silly interludes... say... swords? Do yours speak to you or are they lazy like mine?"

Zev tilted her head at the newcomer, giving a curious look. There was no small measure of obviousness when one stated that these kinds of academy's were full of eccentric types of people, but this really took the cake. She had to wonder if this person was just another one of the psycho's that littered the streets of every city, or perhaps one of the people that were involved in that event that broad on her scroll couldn't seem to stop talking about.

She listened with the odd absence of awe as the boy went on. He seemed like a nut case, and it was odd to take his eerie yammering any kind of serious. When she wasn't considering hitting him, she was a bit jealous. Life was probably a lot more exciting when you were brave enough to live it short and fast, like just an "event". God knows that's even more true when your bloody sword talks to you.

Zev stopped herself from considering that swords could indeed talk, or that at least his could. Glancing down at her pair, her lips crawled into a slightly envious frown. "Nah, they must be lazy. Figures my swords would be bums." She droned, punctuating the sentence with a lowly spirited sigh. Clicking to another point, she stood to her feet, brushing off her skirt, and letting her eyes lock onto the boys own silvery disks. "So, you're a "don"?... Like... Mafia don? Those are still a thing? Because, you may want to work on your accent."

Errante peered at the girls swords, "...They may be lazy but I don't think their bums. The rump always has the best meat, there's no meat on them at all...And as for Don I did murder my way to the top... not as if I was born with the head's blood in me... I drank that later so I guess it is now."

Errante lightly poked Ragnarock's sharpened point, though it stung a little this would make a good test. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist an offer like this, especially in his state. Her reaction to this test would likely decide whether or not he killed her now or later... for what he had in mind in the latter category he might not even have to kill her himself... he wasn't sure if he liked that.

"The Don has been injured, what are you going to do?...kung fu, Lou, grew? Will you just let this go to waste? Will you try to strike me while I'm down? Will you ignore it?... Or will you feast?"

The boy let out a quiet, yet shrill, laugh; "And yes, I know you could kill me but I think that's part of the fun... gun... no, don't be stupid. There are no guns here. She doesn't have a gun. That'd be silly... I'll let you decide... come on then. I won't swing until you make me swing it. I won't pry your head off unless you disappoint."

A drop of blood fell from the open wound, followed by another. It would seem a puddle would form on the ground if she didn't make her decision quickly... he'd give her 10 drops to make her choice.[/color][/color]

Zev squinted her eyes at the person as he talked of murder. She couldn't really blame him. Criminal life was full of scum anyways. No reason to feel bad about it. Why not cut your way to the top and take advantage of it? She couldn't say she enjoyed the idea of the people he might have killed on the side, but this was a dog eat dog world right? She would be lying if she said she didn't look out for number one when push came to shove.

She couldn't help but stare as Errante drove the tip of the sword into his skin. Her mind played over countless idea's of just what he meant by deciding, or just what about the decision would disappoint him. Frankly, she didn't care. Plenty of people had tried to kill her before. Most of them just gave up after a while. She had no more reason to fear this sword slinging psycho than any other child on a playground.

Zev shook her head. She was trying to distract herself, indulging her pride, but the smell was absolutely intoxicating. Her face flushed to a deep crimson. She could practically taste it. She appreciated that she wasn't an animal though. Feast. He was asking her to drink his blood? "W-why?" She managed, watching drop after drop fall onto the ground in front of her. Such a waste. Her fingers dug into her palm. She wouldn't have considered such a thing before, but with the idea in her head, it began to drive her mad.

"Good question, why? Why do we do anything in this world? You're all going to die anyway, that's inevitable. What is but a few drops of blood when compared with the machine that is the human body? I bleed merely because I chose to, I could stop and kill you to... hey that rhymed, hehehehe... You're not responding how I wanted you to though...How strange, why deny yourself something so close to your grasp? You're treating this like one of those claw machine games. Spending and spending; many times what you should for a piece of junk...it's not worth it... Why not just break the glass and take it all? Break the bank and steal the money to?"

As the ninth drop fell Errante noticed something, it was smaller than the last. His hand had healed, after all it was only a pin prick wound;

"...It would seem luck has decided to spare you... Both me and Ragnarock believe in luck above all else, we've had a bad hand our entire life but recently... we've started to pull some aces from the pack... looks like you have to... I guess the luck gods and demons decided to save you... perhaps to give you one last chance...Ragnarock?...Still lazy."

This time he didn't injure himself with the blade itself but one of the four spikes that acted as the sword's hilt. He stuck himself with the spikes, the blade itself pointing toward the ground, held in place by his tight grasp. Keeping the wound open blood trickled down the blade at a molasses like rate, a pool would certainly collect now. Errante was beginning to find his own blood tantalising in all honesty.

"...I can see that your thirsty you know... you're not good at hiding it. Have you drank it before? Who's? When? Why? No, don't tell me... not yet, soon. All your sounds are useless for now. Make your choice. It's entirely up to you how you do this but I can't bleed forever... much longer and I'll make the decision... Everyone loves my decisions... that's why I'm the Don and you not... The Don isn't merciful you know... cross me here and you're marked for life... still your choice though."

Zev's heart pounded in her head as the blood stopped, her mind fighting desperately to gather her thoughts. She couldn't help it. The boy was sinking in there. Was that what her life had been? Junk that she payed too much for. She had given a lot. Her family was gone. All died protecting her. Such a heavy price that she had spent on nothing she had really wanted. Just idly following the directions. Now in front of her sat something she want. It wasn't like he was trying to stop her, after all.

Her hand shot out, falling short of the distance between them. She wanted him to stop. She didn't like the confusion she was feeling. Her head was blurry, the smell of blood thick in the air. His words were like a syrupy fog, deluding her mind. She had always been a bit too feral, but this was too far, wasn't it?

Her hands shook, her mouth almost watering at the idea. No, she had never drank blood from someone before, but she was certain it was a thrill, and her curiosity was overpowering. His words felt distant now. Like echoes from far away. Everything spun, Errante's wound the only still constant in the world. Everything was fading into the background. "Make your choice." She was sure her mind demanded. Words slipping past her conscious mind. Her hands wondered up to the wounded limb, cupping it softly. "Everyone loves his decisions." Her blood drunk mind agreed, her quivering lips wandered to the blood, feeling it warmly trickle onto them. "The Don is merciful you know?" She floated, taking a generous mouthful, finding it didn't disappoint. She shivered, taking another as she became something of a lost soul in the taste.

Errante couldn't help but shudder with glee as the short woman enjoyed her drink. Finally someone who would feast indiscriminately... at least he assumed she would. After you drank from a stranger at the end of an alleyway there was no real turning back was there? He knew fine well what he had to do next, having experienced it with some of his more lightweight prey.

Errante pulled his arm away, early enough to make sure she wasn't quite saticifed with her drink but late enough that she knew the taste well and - he assumed - would long for more.

The tall boy switched his weapon to his left hand, holding two fingers over the gash in his hand; helping it heal. He looked down at her;"How greedy... and needy... would you like me to feed-y you more? Well, methinks you should earn your feed, don't you agree Ragnarock?... I'm going to take that as a yes. After so many years of feasting my blood is quite the cocktail... not got a distinct taste anymore... it's a mess of flavours. Everyone's tastes a little different, wouldn't you like to taste test?... Perhaps actually try some meat?... Such sweet meat..."

As his eyes bored into hers he couldn't help but feel a surge of rampant bloodlust, it looked to him as if she would make a most divine meal... already drizzled in some ideal sauce; it's all around her mouth and coating her hands. His sword was in his left, it would be so easy just to stick her now. Cut her windpipe...but an idea far more appetising had begun to brew to.

Errante could kill a lot of people in one sitting, eat a lot of them to. But with this girl... he was certain that he would gain at least times and a half his normal haul. She was certainly brutal enough for the job... Not to mention how well she'd fit in with his long term plans, the conker of this little bauble before the shattered moon would take some time if he were to do it alone...

His left hand swung, sword in hand... but not to kill her, but offer one last sip in order to sweeten this deal. A small volume of blood was spread along the sword's center line. Glazing the metal with a tantalising red stain. The very edge was held just before her lips, the scent must be overpowering from such a distance;

"If you come with me a world of crane games will open to you, more than the largest arcade could hold. So many opportunities to take your life in your own hands... and shred other people's to pieces. Tear apart the filth who would halt my progress. The Don's always on top you know, neither kings nor queens can stop him and his thugs."

The lillac haired boy began to giggle, licking the rapidly clotting blood on his own hand; "To taste such sweet meats and drink such fine beverages... to feast for nights on end, get revenge on anyone who would wrong you! To rip and tear at fate itself, rearrange it in a whole new form; scatter the pieces again and change it however many times you would like! That's what coming with me entails butterfly killer in blue... no longer chase small prey like that... we could have the world stop spinning at our command...now to ask what you asked me... I guess that's fitting...I believe you said it as this...Whaddya want!?"

Zev shivered with remorse as the stream disappeared, her tail flicking back and forth in aggravation. Her head was still spinning. An odd numbness seemed to wash over her, and no matter how hard it tried, her mind couldn't gain any traction. It stayed a scattered amalgamation of instinct. She absently sniffed the air in front of her, her eyes opening again at a crawl pace, taking in the world again.

Her eyes shooting open, she quickly wipes the blood from her face, coughing. She held her stomach, trembling at what she'd just done. "I-I didn't mean too." She mumbled to herself. "I-I'm not eating anyone!" Her head shook quickly, as she continued to wipe, trying desperately to get the taste off of her tongue. She couldn't stand the hungry looks he was giving her. Even less the fact that she loved that taste. The thought crossed her mind as the sword was promptly shoved towards her. She didn't flinch for the danger. Pain was beneath her. She flinched because she knew exactly what she would do when it was close enough. She greedily took the blade into her mouth, the sharp edges cutting into her tongue and lips.

She groaned to herself, pleading to stop. It took everything to pry the blade away from herself, placing her hands tightly onto it, and pushing it away. A bright blue spark rolled over the wounds on her hands an mouth, making the vanish instantly in it's wake. "I-I'm not an animal..." She reassured herself. Though, her curiosity was already eating at her. She looked down to the stains on her clothes. She reeked of blood, a smell that kept her heart rate high, and her head unstable. "I-I want--.." She started, her tongue tempted to betray her. She wanted to try, but she also wanted no part in it. Killing just for a taste? Surely she was above that, right?

"Animal? An-im-al? Why would this make you an animal?" Errante was far more fixated on the girl's tail by this point, rather than her eyes. How he had missed that he had no idea... part of him wanted to pull it just to see what'd happen but again, the thought of more food overcame his urge; "This is what seperates us from the animals... it clearly is... I thought you could see... was I wrong? The others don't seem to think so, I've not killed you. Think of a regular hunter, they take orders. Do jobs. Follow routine. Stay in line. Does that not make them animals? Are they not cattle lined up for the cull? A grimm kills one, so what? There're hundreds to take their place. Not a low surplice or anything... do you really want to be a cow?...Mooooo...Moooooooooo....The grimm are like the slaughter house knife..."

Errante slowly drew his finger along the top of the bloody line, the part of the sword she hadn't been able to reach through her method of drinking, painting his fingertip a deep red; "...Hmmmmm..."

He slowly lowered the finger toward the girl, initially toward her mouth but at the last moment he changed direction; leaving a bloody imprint upon her cheek in the shape of his, calloused and distorted, finger print. There was still a decent surplus of blood on the sword though, not to mention the scent that must have passed by her. Emanating from his not quite healed hand. He kept the still lightly bloodied finger within her reach, just in front of her lips and beneath her nose, moving the sword a little toward her but not too much. Just to keep it within her sight and within her reach.

"It's your choice... be an animal fine, end up in the slaughter house, oink, oink, oink. It's just more meat for me if you don't. I asked you what you want... Ragnarock probably suspects that you don't know... as I said you can rewrite your fate if you do this... while I won't quite help you much in that I will... supply you with what you need if you heed my whims...slaughters, killings, mostly folk I don't like... sometimes strangers...Feasts are the big one...Do you want to be the sheep or the shepherd? Do you want to be pushed around or do you want to push around... it's not as if you're just eating them for the taste... as nice as it is... the act of eating isn't that simple... no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no... it's a symbol... when I eat someone, even though the taste is magnificent, it's to prove that I can do what I want... if I just kill them they'll think it's because I don't like them, it's not just that... while a big chunk is the taste a bigger chunk is the proof that I will do what I want, when I want. This is how the Don must live."

He gyrated his neck, following her tail in it's swishing motion, "...I'll ask again... what do you want?"

Zev studied the man's eyes as the swayed, unsure of the purpose of them. Noticing it was he tail, she flicked it to the side, grabbing it with both hands, and hugging it closely, the tip still flicking unhappily next to her face. She didn't like his eyes. Hungry. Unforgiving. She wanted to gouge them out. For all she knew, her tail looked like a brilliant side dish right now. She couldn't help but feel for what he was saying. She wasn't one for taking orders, but more than that, she didn't really have reasons not too. She didn't have a safety net of friends, or family, or even a distant acquaintance to enjoy tea with. In truth, she related to no one. Not her teachers, not her long gone parents, or this candy haired psycho standing in front of her. Maybe he was crazy, certainly he would try to kill her one day, but in a way, he was simply honest. So much more than she had seen.

Her eyes crept to follow the path of his finger, only widening as it approached her face, her mouth slightly agape in anticipation. A pitiable whimper escaped her throat, her mouth slamming shut, as her senses overloaded in the smell. He made it sound pretty, but this was unforgivable, right? And who was he to be promising so much to her? Everything she needed? Like he could possibly know what that was when even she didn't. If he knew anything of the sort, he would know that she didn't like being compared to animal, let alone a pig. "I'm not going to be the kind of faunus my parents spent their lives trying to convince people didn't exist. I-I'm not going to eat anyone. I'm not going to kill strangers either!" She huffed, a hand moving to hover over one of her blades while the other protected her tail.

Errante seemingly ignored her, eyes still fixated on her tail. He'd never seen one before... he'd never eaten one before. That or he'd forgotten.

"That's a weird. It's like a hairy blue snake... how does it move like that? Must be all ligaments...muscle... how putrid... all the best meat's in the rump and yet that snake gets a free ride? How quaint. Perhaps I'll eat it... perhaps not. Does look a bit bony. Well... still meat."

Errante bent down, now on an eye to eye level with the blue haired girl. He kept his hand in close, just under her nose. He was sure the scent was overpowering to her, he had witnessed as much. It must be hard for her to resist an open wound, Errante thought to himself. This volume of blood hardly enticed him anymore. Took a good body or two to get him riled up.

He made an attempt at a sweet smile, though it probably looked horrifying to this one. As he did so the lilac haired boy activated his semblance, setting it on her, only for the mere blink of an eye though. He was curious of her reaction. She'd see what she feared most... so would that entice her to fight? Or force her to be submissive? He was rather enticed by either option. Would she roll over? Or would she get up and fight? He was looking for a fight... but he was looking for another to speed things up. More meat... more food.

"You know... fear is strange. It can force you to do one thing... yet stop you doing others. This is what you should do... become fear. Make fear fear you. If you kill people then eat them the world will fear you... and they have to respect what they fear. If they don't... their fear might kill them. Fear is like a train you see. It's very dangerous, if it hits you then you may die... but fear is stuck to set tracks. Certain patterns. You can break the tracks, killing your fear, or simply redirect it at a crossroads... you should break the tracks though. I can help you break the tracks. All it takes is a couple dead strangers and a couple nice meals... once you start you won't be able to stop. You love the taste, I can see it in your eyes, movement, and hear it in your voice as well as your breath...keep this up though and you might become a meal yourself..."

Her eyes narrowed into Errante's face. She knew it! He wanted to eat her tail! "Hey! Eyes up here wise guy! And don't even THINK about my rump!" she demanded with a shiver, her hand twisting over her blade. She wanted to solve this like all her other issue's. Sheer force. Unfortunately, there was a problem. This man wasn't like the silly students she had met. He was more than skilled with a blade. He was comfortable. The prospect of murder was akin to a game hunter. It was for fun. To show your dominance over your little world. He would kill her for fun, and wouldn't even begin to hesitate.

Zev stood steady as he closed in on her. Her face solid determination save a slight pout from the tempting blood. Again she was simply resisting her urges. Bite it. Latch right on. That was what her mind told her to do about the wound. He mind was again being filled with a blood lusting haze. It began to slowly kill off thoughts. Leaving in more and more solitude her desire to taste what he was offering.

Her skin trembled, and her feet scuffled back a few steps in response. That hunter. She was ready to bolt. But... It was gone. What had he done? How could he have possibly know that? The hunter's eyes. They were business. No dilemma existed in them. He killed them like it was just another day at the office. He destroyed her life with that exact expression. Dull, and undiscerning. Her eyes began to water. She didn't want to be here anymore. She didn't want to hear him. Her mind called for help, but simply didn't know who to call for. There was no one. Not a single person in her life. She was alone, as always.

She gritted her teeth, her emotions intensifying blindly with every word he spoke. She didn't know what to feel right now, but it was a lot of something. She was confused again. More than ever. Her mind felt to blank to know what, though. Break the tracks. Break the tracks. Break. Break. Break. She shook her head violently, a whimper escaping her throat, as both hands flew to the sides of her head. Too much pressure. She couldn't take it. Her teeth gnashed out at the wound, trying to latch to it.

"My, my. While it's true that I am a wise guy flattery will get you nothing but a hole in the chest." Errante waved off the girl's attempt at an insult unknowingly but grinned as she lurched for his hand.

He paused for a moment, letting latch onto the wound long enough to maybe get a couple of sips before tugging her head back by her hair; leaving her mouth centimetres from the now throbbing, oozing, wound. Ragnarock still in hand though, her hair held against the sword's grip. He flexed the hand lightly, feeling the blood lightly flow between his fingertips.

"See? I told you. Once you start you won't be able to stop... you're rather greedy aren't you? Did you get the scab to chew on to? Must have got a little bit if it's bleeding like this. That's not a great first piece to try but... it's a start I guess. Now now, can't just leach off me forever can you? You've got to draw some blood of your own soon... we're still discussing the details of that as you can see but soon. You'll be taking the train off the tracks then? Breaking the crane machine and stealing it all?... Feasting alongside me? Have you decided what you want yet?"

His grip was harsh, she would certainly lose a bit of hair if she were to try and go for the wound now.

The tug caught her a bit off guard, a bit of blood escaping down her chin and onto her clothes, and her arms instinctively moving to the hand holding her tightly in place.. She made another small whimper. The pain couldn't have bothered her less, but the sudden removal of blood again pried at her mind. Each time her mind seemed to be that much more fuzzy. Was he right? Was she too late? The taste sealed her fate, and now it was inevitable.

She felt the scab in her mouth. It's existence. Her curiosity. Everything about it made her stomach ache. She was just going to end up that much more alone wasn't she? This was revolting. She was revolting. Even more than before. Not just the ill-tempered faunus. One little meeting and he was already making her a monster. Was that the only way to avoid what was going to happen to her? Join a greater monster, and hope he doesn't let you go in the wind like all the other little creatures had?

Zev quickly found herself choking on uncertainty. Her eyes watered, and she made a few short hics and sniffles. "I-I don't know..." She pleaded quietly, wishing she didn't have to make the decisions, or that someone had been in her life long enough to teach her how.

Errante frowned as he observed her eyes watering and heard her sniffles.

"I told you that you could change your fate at will didn't I? If you don't know now then you don't know now. I can't change that, doesn't even matter to me. That's your goal, not our goal. Correct? The don's goal is every one's goal... but what is the don's goal... besides having an experience there must be more..."

He absentmindedly tugged at the back of her head in thought, fingers weaving through her blue locks and tugging her head in different directions. Up. Down. Left. Right. Up. Left. Right. Down. He settled on pulling down, he mumbled speaking and appearance suggested that the scab was still in her mouth... perhaps this would ease it down.

"I guess I want them to see... to see that good and bad aren't real thinks. Justice and villainy are subjective. The law is wrong, they do things wrong. Eating people shows them, what's right to us is wrong to them... but really it's right. As the don is on top I'll decide the true rights, wrongs and what is up to people's own choice. No prejudice. Just my justice. The justice surrounding my mafia... yeah, that sounds about right. Wouldn't you say? Tear apart the current world order and make things right? Kill those who wrong you and remain unprosecuted, eat them to."

As his cold eyes bore into hers he couldn't help debating another feast. She looked so pathetic, a faunus with scab in their mouth looked alike a pig with an apple in it's mouth to him. A meal prime for eating. Her arms up there, away from her weapons. Such easy prey. His mouth opened, salivating, slowly leaning in to snap at her head when he bit his tong. That would come soon enough. Even if she didn't join him, though he was certain she was just a push from doing so, it was fun to play with his food. He'd toy with her for far longer and in far more painful ways than this if he felt inclined.