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Description
"Stay awhile, morsel." murmured the pale man. Clad in the figure of a young high elf who could have been no more than 17 years old, (though he was much older), his deceptively frail arms clung tighter around the night elf maiden. He buried his face into her verdant hair and inhaled deeply, his dulled senses still able to pick up her delicious scent. The smell of blood was always intoxicating to him, but in her...in her it was more so. Much, much more.

A sanguine lust stirred within his soul, and with anguish he kept his restraint, only to snarl softly as his fangs were bared. What was it that he found so desirable about his enemy's daughter? Well this one, he mentally corrected, not her twin the Warden bitch. This one: the fair, gentle mage with whom his attention could not stray. She was so much like her mother, and yet so different. Where the mother saw an abomination in him, the daughter saw his true soul. And she loved it.

I could love her, night elf or not, he contemplated. Breathing was unnecessary, but still he held it as she sighed leaned farther into his embrace. Perhaps this was the path to his redemption, or the path to his destruction; this magnificent creature who fed every one of his hungers in every way. Either way, he cared not, as long as she was part of it.

Lirath Windrunner, the San'layn Prince and former champion of the Scourge once known as Skullcaller, was for the moment only Lirath, a wretched fool clutching to his light in the darkness... His Ilaera.

Description
"Stay awhile, morsel." murmured the pale man. Clad in the figure of a young high elf who could have been no more than 17 years old, (though he was much older), his deceptively frail arms clung tighter around the night elf maiden. He buried his face into her verdant hair and inhaled deeply, his dulled senses still able to pick up her delicious scent. The smell of blood was always intoxicating to him, but in her...in her it was more so. Much, much more.

A sanguine lust stirred within his soul, and with anguish he kept his restraint, only to snarl softly as his fangs were bared. What was it that he found so desirable about his enemy's daughter? Well this one, he mentally corrected, not her twin the Warden bitch. This one: the fair, gentle mage with whom his attention could not stray. She was so much like her mother, and yet so different. Where the mother saw an abomination in him, the daughter saw his true soul. And she loved it.

I could love her, night elf or not, he contemplated. Breathing was unnecessary, but still he held it as she sighed leaned farther into his embrace. Perhaps this was the path to his redemption, or the path to his destruction; this magnificent creature who fed every one of his hungers in every way. Either way, he cared not, as long as she was part of it.

Lirath Windrunner, the San'layn Prince and former champion of the Scourge once known as Skullcaller, was for the moment only Lirath, a wretched fool clutching to his light in the darkness... His Ilaera.