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It was dark, that night. Waxing crescent, and even that little sliver of moon was hidden by the overcast sky at most points. Shadows everywhere, thick and almost tangible. Just the way Sang liked it. Ready for the hunt. Shadows and dark didn't make a difference when you saw everything in various shades of crimson and red.

Sang had never felt so close to being alive in a long time, he decided. He couldn't exactly FEEL the way the breeze blew through his hair as he flitted from tree to tree, sometimes hitting the ground, sometimes being part of the shadows himself, but he knew that it was there. He was particularly aware of everything around him, tonight. He was hunting tonight, he was thirsty, and it was a science he had perfected.

These sentient thoughts fell away, though, as he approached this next hamlet. He could smell something different coming from it, some newer essence, and whatever it was, he wanted a piece. A taste, at least. Maybe even a bit of time to converse with whatever it was. Pervading over it all was the smell, though. The thirst. That was first, of course.

Then he was in the town. The dark feel all around him, conforming to his shape like a well-worn jacket, hanging in all the right places and covering up just what was needed. He drifted among the houses, taking in the smells of every home he passed, more like a gourmet enjoying the aroma floating out of a kitchen than the animal he really was, looking for that delicious new scent for him to take for himself. But then, maybe the two weren't so different, after all.

Before he knew really understood what he was doing, light was falling on him, cutting up the sheath of shadows he had been hidden in. Flickering light spilled around his feet and up his body, making him wince and pull back defensively. He pulled the shadows back in around him, forcing them, rather than drifting with them, creating an unnatural barrier that he was immediately sorry he created. If anybody saw it, they were twice as likely to be suspicious of it than if they had just seen a child float out of the dark.

He gave the square one look over, preparing to drift back off into the shadows when he noticed what sat in the bench across the plaza. It was a boy, quite striking, two tendrils of long brown hair falling onto his face. Sang was immediately stricken by him, enjoying his good looks. That new smell that had drawn him was all about the place, now that he had opened his mind again and taken in his surroundings. This was what he had come here for. Better yet, his eyes were closed.

With the initial shock of being shone upon gone and his cover very nearly blown, it was time to make a move, Sang decided. This one was a child, like he was. He looked frightened, even, all alone out here in the dark. His only companion seemed to be the lantern held, and the glow appeared to be controlled by the boy himself. It would be interesting to see if fading hope would diminish that light. Sang would look forward to that moment, with special attention paid to the other's eyes. They would hold the best part of him, the fear.

A strange pang of empathy for the boy hit him for a moment, and he was stricken with self-doubt. What right had he to bother what he himself knew to be a defenseless child, alone in the dark?

The thought didn't exactly startle him; he had been given to bouts of living emotion, memories of a life he no longer possessed. As always, he found it best to ignore it and get on with whatever he was doing. It would be best to get this done quickly, though, before he botched it. Throwing off the veil, Sang stepped forward into the lantern-glow of the square. Smiling to disarm, he began, "It's awful late for one so young to be out so late, is it not?" He fixed the red orbs that served as his eyes these long nights on the boy, trying to keep eye contact, blinking manually to prevent it from becoming unsettling, despite his discontinued need for the wetting of his eyes. "Surely you aren't out alone...?"

Sang's grin widened as he paced closer and closer to the lantern-bearer in front of him, focusing on each step to ensure that his heel actually clicked on the floor, instead of merely gliding along the ground, as he was so used to doing. The boy had moved the lantern in front of him, as if the ward would hold him back. He stopped, looking surprised, a hand thrown up to his mouth to hide the long "O" it had formed. And, most importantly, the fangs, which had already began to elongate in anticipation.

As the boy spoke, Sang relished the undertone of despair in the weak response. Even the boy himself knew he could have done better to explain himself, and that made it all the more delicious. A mistake both parties were privy to were the most comfortable, the most... intimate.

By now, Sang had reached the boy. Quickly closing his mouth, he resumed that disarming smile, dropping his hand away from his face. Gently, he pushed down the lantern with that hand, leaning in close to the other. "Now... what is this going to do, darling? Burn me up...? Surely, that's no way to treat a new friend." At this, he pouted, trailing the tips of his fingers along the other's cheek, reveling in the smoothness and warmth. "We can be friends, can't we...?"

The shiver under his touch was delightful, like the rattle of long-dead leaves stuck to skeletal fingers of trees turned in for winter as chill winds ripped past. But he immediately found his own analogy flawed, for the shiver and the skin that had formed it coursed with vitality, that of one who had long days and little to fear in front of him. Little to rightfully fear, at least.

He was still admiring the boy in his own way when the skin he felt under his hand was smoke, then air. Just... air. Black rage bubbled up from the pit of his chest like bile, his gaze hardened and his decadent smile twisted into a sneer as he clawed the clear air by clenching tight the fingers of the hand he had been using to caress the other. Then, all at once, he was back, a short distance in front of Sang and looking considerably calmer than he had. Realizing how he must have looked, the hand dropped to his side and his face melted into a betrayed pout. He looked up at the boy, who was still gazing into his eyes like the naive child he probably was. Putting a hurt mask on his voice, Sang began, "Only if I'm nice...? Why, what have I done to offend you yet? You try to back away from me, as if I am going to hurt you..." He took a single step forward, continuing, "But I have no intention of harming you."

The best lies are often woven with truth like the criss-crossing fibers of a garment, and could often tilt both ways and fade in to truth or deviate deeper into the fictional world of the mistruth. He didn't exactly know if he even wanted to take from this boy any more, as something about him evoked a somewhat... human feeling, deep in his chest.

Sang's eyes lit up, not quite with happiness, but his mouth twirled up into as delicate of a smile that was possible to a spirit such as he. He began, "Names are a powerful thing, my friend. Be careful who you ask them from, and who you give your own to." Frowning suddenly, he realized the disconnection of what he just said and the image he was trying to portray. Was he slipping?

But what an evening! Hw could he lose confidence on such a night, such a perfect hour? The shadows lay thick among each other, the leaves they held in their bellies rustling complacently, whispering their invitations to join them, to walk off and be one with the night. At least, that was how it sounded to Sang. It might not be the case for the boy, given the way he stared into them and then back at him, the way they ate away at the light cast by the lantern, the way their jaws closed completely around at the edges, leaving no radiance or half-light. There was easy visibility, and then there was zero. But then, maybe he heard the same whisperings and invitations that Sang did, and that was his fear. If he had been living, Sang imagined he'd be scared, too.

Finding his train of thought again, he continued, "No, no, pay no mind to me. Now is no good for talking with strangers. Formalities and acquaintance should take place! I am known as Sang. I am... a wanderer. And what may I call you...?" Holding out his hand, he blinked again. Manually. It was difficult to remember, sometimes. He hoped he hadn't forgotten and unnerved this one.

The age old question came to mind as he gave Icarus' hand the slightest of shakes before pulling it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss upon the knuckles. Pouting his lips slightly, that his fangs could not be felt upon the other's bare skin. Letting the hand drop, he looked up again into the other's pretty orange eyes. "It is an honor and a pleasure, Icarus, both to make your acquaintance and to know you are also one of the endless road."

The infernal fire that burned behind his eyes danced and flickered, barely-concealed pleasure fueling them. He was enjoying every moment spent with this handsome little prize, right down to gooseflesh he saw, sprung up on the other's arm as he leaned in to make things more formal. The exhaustion that was beginning to play around the corners of his eyes as his strength ebbed away, the way he shook his head to banish the weight on each eyelid. It was a gesture so childish and human that Sang almost giggled aloud, even though there was very little emotion left in his husk of a heart. Other than hunger, of course.

Sang met Icarus' smile with one of his own, trying for nearly as much innocence as there was in the other's. The question that had risen to the top of his mind as he had first shook his hand returned, the question he had ask uncountable times. "And are we well-met, good Icarus?"

Perhaps the only reason Sang let the second flare of rage crawl up to his face and twist it into something less attractive then it normally was, to say the least, was the fact that Icarus had looked off to the side. This one was powerful mentally, that was infuriatingly clear. He hadn't had a person break his line of sight in close to a century, maybe two at this point. This boy, this child, was able to resist an entity such as himself? Ludicrous, absolutely ridiculous.

He calmed himself down, slightly, letting the excess anger drain from his system, anything that wasn't related to the animalistic hunger at the back of his mind, still well-chained, was siphoned off to more useful feelings, the most pronounced being reason and foresight. He could keep up a charade for a while, he liked to think, but there would come a time when he would have to drop it and make his move or retreat into the night and find easier prey.

At the same time, he wanted to understand more about his quarry. It was fascinating, on top of maddening, how this boy was so able to resist him. How his inner fire kept his lantern alight and the lamp at least fifteen feet off from being swallowed. The darkness that swathed him would have suffocated any form of radiance long ago, leaving malignant shadows all around. Maybe he could afford to ask a few questions.

As the boy's shudder subsided, Sang took the final several steps toward him, placing himself intimately close to the other, their shoulders touching. Slipping an arm around Icarus, he turned and pulled himself into Icarus' back, forming a kind of half-way embrace. Resting his head on the other boy's shoulder, he smiled lightly, no longer quite caring about his fangs being seen. Moving his lips to the boy's ear, he whispered, "Oh...? Distrustful? But why...? They do nothing but hide that which nobody wants seen, gives shelter to those who require it. Like myself... I use the shadows as a cloak, and it conforms to me well, don't you think? Like a glove... one far softer than any garment..."