#((I feel like I got super word vomit-ish at the end here so have mercy))

[crimsonbathed]

A mutter under his breath " crazy old bitch...."

TW: BODY HORROR, VIOLENCE, ANIMAL VIOLENCE/DEATH

Delicate hands cradled a fresh skull, a prize from her most recent hunt. Her chest heaved, rising and falling in tune with her rapid, heavy breaths.

Black beady eyes reflected the predatory smile that had made its home upon Carrion's features. All six of her canines staring back at her, with an air of pride surrounding the small folk. Warmth dripped down her face as crimson trails decorated fair skin, painting itself upon her canvas. Like leaves being blanketed with golden rays, Carrion's eyes glimmered, in awe of her prize. A rare moment where, if one could look past all of the blood upon her features, she looked genuinely happy. Her tongue flicked out, running across her swollen lower lip. A familiar metallic taste danced on the tip of her tongue, a bemused chuckle escaping from her. How curious. She had tried so hard to prevent such a mess from happening, and yet her cobweb shirt and skirt had been stained, given a new pattern against her will. Who knows how much blood was lost, now seeping in to the soil of the island. It wasn't all puddled together in her typical fashion, but it would have to do. The body would provide a fair amount, though it might not be enough to wash her more than twice, given how much was lost. The idea of the crimson warmth running down her figure was an intoxicating fantasy, hair falling wildly as she washes away the filth that stains her being from the giants. Their stench, a horrendous thing. Slim digits had reached out, petting the rabbits head and running across its ears. "Thank you, gentle one. For your sacrifice." A whisper, as though she was consoling someone who had just lost a loved one. True appreciation for the life given to sustain hers.

Within the reflection of the creatures eyes, Carrion spotted one of the giants. A swell of fear greeted her, tightening in her throat as she attempted to discern whether or not it was a pirate, or a lost boy. Bloodied digits wrapped around the hilt of a wolfs incisor she had been using as a dagger. Tightening her grip upon the threaded hilt, she stole a glance over her shoulder, a familiar face. It must have been her lucky day. For she could get him to carry the heavier nature of the creatures body back to the graveyard for her. If he behaved himself, perhaps she would even reward him for his efforts. Perhaps, though most likely not. He was but a thrall to the island, and what did he truly do to stay within the islands good graces? How many gallons of blood must she have watered the ground beneath their feet with over the course of her many, long, delightful years here? Even if he did not readily offer his help, she would secure her position over him. The minds of giants were always so fragile. They scream to the winds, begging for help, for someone, ANYONE to save them, and yet they never dare to try and save themselves. A funny thing that. What it must feel like to rely on others to fight your battles for you. Knowing that your mind is being taken over, and yet they still call for help as though someone else could rid them of the parasite whispering within their ears as it takes over.

"Bandit, child. Your timing is grand. I require you." That twisted smile lingered on her lips as she gingerly set the skull down. Taking to the air, she pointed towards the prize of her hunt. "You shall carry this for me, I would hate to have to make numerous trips to salvage this. Would take me half the day." His help would prevent her from many hours wasted away in the open. Instead of sectioning pieces where anything that might catch the sweet scent, could come running, she could do so from the safety of her own home, where she could keep an eye on her dearest Chrysanthemum. Such a sizeable haul would last her throughout the next month or so, and her dear Chrysanthemum would have nothing to worry about for such a long time. She needed to expand her dearests palate, and this would surely be a wonderful start. Carrion turned her attention from the Bandit child, towards her prize and began her descent to retrieve the skull. What she had not expected, was to hear the Bandit murmur beneath his breath. Whispered words that gave her pause. A fine line forming upon her lips, brows furrowing together as the she hovered in place.

"Crazy old bitch." Bandits own voice greeted them, distorted as though he was gasping for air between words. It bounced around them, filling the air. Crazy was not something Carrion was unfamiliar with, so many of her own kind had called her crazy, demented, a monster, when they discovered what she was doing to those who had perished in the colony due to the cold. When they had exiled her from the very colony she had built up and made safe for them all. The ungrateful wretches. It was the last two words that truly fanned the flame within her that had been dying out after her hunt. Old. Centuries meant nothing to her, as she had lived a good life, and a very short one considering the time span of her people. Were wrinkles massacring her features? Crows feet upon her eyes that gave her an unappealing visage? Even now, adorned in blood splatters that pooled in her collarbones and spilled over, she believed herself to be able to make a grown man swoon, human or of her own kind. But Bandit was no man, he was but a child. Foolish- idiotic and delusional in his view of the world. A giant who refuses to see the beauty in the world, the world that will outlive him ten times over. Such mindless accusations must not go unpunished, such a hypocritical remark from a gangling creature. Arms far too long for their being, as though they had been pulled and stretched. Giants were one of the most unsightly things she ever had the displeasure of turning her gaze upon. No means of hiding, from those which hunt them, and for creatures that seem to call themselves the 'apex predators' they were so very low on the food chain. It was a miracle the island hadn't sucked these disgusting creatures up, chewing them up and spitting out their bones. The only way they could ever seem even slightly appealing, would be if their heads were left to rot away on sticks, jutting out of the ground.

"Bitch." The Bandit child's voice rang out again. Yelling the word with raw anger. Vicious. The word burned, searing the smallfolk's insides. Ribs aching as though an animal were pushing against the cage to escape. To sink its teeth into the child's shoulder and hear him truly scream out in pain. Watching his eyes fill with terror as he witnessed his own body fall to pieces right before him. There was but a brief moment where Carrion turned to look at the boy. The forest surrounding them shifted as she turned, the trees forming a large circle around the two. Such a FOUL word to throw around. To direct at HER. A pitiful lost child, expendable in every way, daring to insult her. To turn up his nose at the gifts she presented him. The ability to be in her presence, the fact she had caused him no serious harm, no missing appendages. She even allowed the fool to hold conversation with her, and what does he do? Insult her three separate ways all at once. For it was brave of him to even whisper the words, but bravery only ever led idiotic children to their dooms. Within but a moment of the forest blocking out the sun above them, Carrion made her escape to the shadows.

"Ungrateful. You selfish fool. How much will you test my patience?" Her words were sharp, harsh. The smallfolk watched the Bandit, her hands forming tight fists that shook ever so slightly. A fire burned within her that was threatening to burn her alive, raging against her insides until nothing but charred wood remained. He would not simply walk away from this, from her. A child must learn their lesson when they step out of line. To insult her pride is to truly forfeit your life. Through the trees, a wind began to kick up. Branches groaning in pain as they bent, some snapping and crashing to the ground near the Lost Boy. "You have lied to me, how many times? How many more will you risk leaving your life to chance? To the mercy of MY good graces?" The words swirled, circling him. A wolf hunting its prey, stalking, planning. At the Bandit child's feet, the body of Carrion's hunt, twitched. The rabbits feet kicking as it adjusted to it's new found center of balance. "I should flay you for your insolence. Leave your body for the birds to pick apart and feast upon." Carrion boomed. The warmth upon her lips tingled, a desperate, silent call for fresh warmth. Sage hues eyed the bare skin of the Lost Boy. Chops salivating at the idea of a meal, the flesh of a giant. Something she only ever got in small doses to ensure none of the Lost Boys would catch on. Oh how hungry she was. Hunger mixed with anger, it left her electrified. Such an invigorating sensation. The thrill of the hunt, a cat playing with a cornered mouse. The rabbits body charged towards Bandit's feet, and at the same time, Carrion swooped down. Her teeth made sweet contact with the skin of his neck. Sinking into the soft flesh, and with a feral rip, a small piece tore away. No sooner than she had come, was she retreating back to the shadows. It was warm, and the smell that enveloped her was intoxicating. Blindingly so.

The trees moaned in agony as the wind grew stronger. An invisible howling accompanying the mischievous laughter that passed through Carrion's lips. How long it has been since she was able to rip the flesh of a giant straight from the source. To feel the warmth rush to the surface of new wounds, lingering on her lips as she moved away. The rabbits feet kicked against the ground as it circled Bandit. The still, detached head watched him. Beady black eyes focused on his figure as though it was staring straight through him. A loud thump that served as a distraction for Carrion to rush the boy again. Sharpened nails caught his bare arm, piercing the skin. "The only crazy thing here-" She cooed, her claws ripping upwards. Her nails were far from clean and smooth, instead they were jagged and pointed in an intricate pattern. Like razor wire being dragged across the flesh. The fresh scent of metal was overwhelming for the smallfolk. It left her desperate for more. It left her mouth salivating, she wanted more. That sweet, indescribable flavor on her tongue. "-are those who believe it is survival of the fittest, instead of survival of the worst." Shrill giggles filled the Lost Boys ears, the winds high pitched whine taunting him. No matter how long she stayed here and tormented the child, it would never be enough to satisfy her, for he would draw his last breath before she felt as though her pride had been honored. "What if I buried that dagger of yours beneath your flesh? Would your ribs protect it so? Would you writhe in agony as it destroyed you from the inside out?" The idea of her crude sewing being the only thing that protects him from his insides spilling out, was enough to send a shiver of pure ecstasy down her back.

A vine slowly crawled up the Bandit's leg, wrapping around his ankle. Carrion had gotten so caught up in the idea of keeping her little game going, that she allowed her personal glamour spell to fade away. The untamed, mess of black curls, returned to their natural state of gold. An appearance she hadn't allowed others to see since she had been exiled from her own colony, but the power would be better used to keep the Lost Boy, a withering wild force, prisoner in her game. Another quick dive, canines meeting the tougher flesh of his elbow. For a sizable chunk had gotten pierced from her bite, and as she ripped her head, thrashing like a wild dog, the blood slinging 'round, his skin ripped. Chewy, fatty bits dangled from her mouth as she flew away. "So is that what you believe me to be? Crazy? Oh Bandit you have seen nothing of the sort. I can be most creative. Perhaps I should see if I could get the wolves to come to us? They could lend me their teeth and create a glove for you. One where every time you flinch, or squirm, they tighten their grip and allow you to be in charge of your own fate. Oh I wonder what kind of scars you would earn?" Carrion's voice bounced, distorted and low. A mutilated echo of her normal tone.

The rabbits body fell limp once more as Carrion released her hold over it, turning her attention to something . . . bigger. "Bandits must have a sharp tongue, though you are more likely to meet a sharpened edge upon yours." The sensation of fingers creeping up from beneath the Bandits skin, tapping against the underneath of his skull. Sharpened nails tap tap tapping away, touching the back of his eyes. Demented laughter rang out, like a voice that speaks only within your own head. "Do remember, that you will not always be the one in charge of this vessel." Carrion's words were but a soft whisper within his mind. Her fingers could be felt beneath his skin as she fought her way in. Threatening to take a hold of his form. Fingers pressing along the underneath of his arms as they trailed down to his fingertips. A new host getting used to its skin. "One day, it might just be me." The words were sickeningly sweet as Carrion allowed a soft laugh to escape her. Moments passed as she felt her way around his skin, a potential coat for her. Within a moment, she released him. The trees returned to normal, sunlight dancing upon the ground once more. Golden rays casting a light on the Lost Boy, and the small folk who fluttered before him, ever out of arms reach. Outstretching her arms towards the Lost boy, a feigned hurt pout dancing across her lips, Carrion tilted her head to the side.

"Now, what is it you shall call me? Was it, bitch?"