The She-Devil

[Spine]

Upon entering the familiar hate-stenched- perhaps that was why they called it the Stream of Sins- land, he drifted further into the terra, drifted, and yet with full control. Only then did he turn to see the She-Devil that was his Alpha, his first female. He did not plan on a beta stallion. A true dark would not interact with another, unless the herd would actually get that big. He doubted that. The other darks most likely thought him "poser" though they were contradicting themselves. They were the ones who actually cared about others.

Fools.

"What was your old herd like?" He asked. She was scented more thickly with the scent of Jaded Falls, and therefor, he could tell she was here longer. It was not a waste of breath. It was a gathering of information. And upon her telling him, if she chose to, he would give her the equivelent exchange.

[Angelness]

Orbs blankly scanned the terra, not impressed, but not disappointed either. Her old herd? Which one? She would speak of the one he was likely to know of. If he cared about the others, he would ask. But to make sure he knew, she would hint at it. She didn't particularly want to speak of it, but wants meant nothing as a dark. Wants were not important. Needs hardly mattered. It was what you possessed - and how you achieved them - that mattered.

"Weaklings. Fools. Nothing like the hell I was born into as a slave."

Those words were all she said. Nothing was mentioned of him; whether he was of the former or the latter had yet to be known. He seemed to be of the latter, though, thank Satan. Although... If he wasn't, I wouldn't have so much as looked at him in the first place. She thought to herself, the slightest of sneers coming to her face.

[Spine]

Blood-bathed eyes reflected nothing as the brute stood still, not moving. Even his sides were still, had you been near his mouth, you would have felt no breath. Then again, have you had been near his mouth, you would have been dead.
"I was merely born, cleansed, fed, and left out to fend for myself." He spoke, the words having an unheard, yet silent echoe. He didn't need to tell her it was his past. She knew.
He remembered vividly of covering his scent to hide from predators, and leaping after rabbits, attempting to snatch them in his fangs, and how he had jaws perfect for what he hunted. Fangs that caught and tore- back, flat teeth that shattered bone. Bach teeth that also enabled him to east grass, and thus supply a perfect set of power to himself. How he had conflicts with other herds, and it seemed like the world was against him. Him versus the world- how was he to survive?
And by dark, the nightmares that came to his mind, and made him feel like he was needed. But not in a loving way. It was a path to power, and black instinct made him follow it. How he had become semi-nocturnal, to void the bright sun. It was luck, at first, but then he understood why he neededto stay out of the sun.
White Nightmare was born for a purpose.

A grunt to carry out the work on Earth.
But that was how it was at first. He had felt, in his nightmares, like he hd risen up the ranks of the Satan's army. He had felt it- a sudden surge of power.
He was no longer a mere grunt. By night, he moved legions of demons. He was their leader. And yet it was all in a nightmare- or was it?

"I am going to fight Politic's Way for some of his mares." White Nightmare hissed, his head already dipping down low as if he was about to fight. He turned slowly, then left without another word.

[w h o]

Don walked over to the fae. "I'm looking for the lead fae, to fight. Are you this fae? She asked rudely, sneering