Admittedly he'd never believed it would all pay off, but now Takka had to admit to himself--it was really paying off. His bone collec--err, supply stash had nearly doubled in size, half the brews he presently owned were from direct payments, he'd recently received word of two raccoons interested in supplying him with candles regularly through trade, his infamy was spreading rapidly, his success was through the roof, and to throw another shiny bauble onto the pile, his little Oracle had proved to be far less slothful than he'd initially suspected. Once her recovery was in full swing, she'd performed her duties to the letter and then some. It was one of the best feelings in the world to have a bet pay off like that. Takka was beyond pleased.

"Put that down!" the stallion snarled at his "assistant". Pleased, but not changed.

Octobre let the human skull fall from her mouth and back into its original position. Sometimes the mare took it upon herself to alter something of his set-up, to the stallion's complete and utter dismay. She always had a legitimate reason for doing so, but no reason was enough for Takka. He had told her of this many times. But he was learning that his companion was growing less afraid of him, and subsequently more interested in pushing boundaries. Well, he'd be finished with her soon enough...

The mare stared down at the skull with bowed head, and the sight would've seemed quite melancholy to most, except that Octobre's expression was lacking any emotion. She observed the object blankly. The top half of the skull had been cleanly removed in order to house a thick, red candle. Her aim had been to remove some wax that had dripped and dried on one of the cheek bones, but of course Takka was strongly opposed as usual. Not that Octobre truly cared one way or the other. She spent much of her free time completing random, menial tasks--ones she could get away with. This time she had been caught. Most of the time it was not so.

"How did you obtain this?" Octobre asked. She also filled her time asking questions. Sometimes she was lucky and received an answer.

"You like skulls, don't you?" came the slow reply. She guessed quickly that his following remarks would not satisfy her curiosity. But it only served to advance the male's predictability in her eyes. Octobre had not been afraid of him for some time. Instead, those feelings had been replaced with something else--something secret. "Anything that reminds you of death. Tell me something...Octobre," he continued, the unexpected sound of her name stopping the mare in her steps. "I've been wondering...you actually wanna kill the ones you drink from, don't you?"

"I wonder about your wondering about me," Octobre declared mildly. The stallion did not possess a response for this, and so the "conversation" ended. Another win for the mare. Takka really was becoming trite.

Truthfully, Octobre had payed off her "life debt" to the stallion several days ago, but was now caught up in the additional offer he had made at the beginning of it all--to continue to work for him with the prize of one bottle of blood per completed seance/session/commune/etc. His lottery game was incredibly amusing, but to Takka only. Octobre found no pleasure in it whatsoever unless, of course, the blood received was a type she had never before tasted. The game of chance as a reward for her hard work was unsatisfying. It was something uncertain. Octobre was opposed to uncertainty and avoided it whenever possible, except for this time. This had itched the back of the mare's mind uncomfortably the first time Takka had made her his offer, and it still did so now. The itch had become worse, however, much worse...it had grown into an irritation. It had shifted its beady eyes. It had locked its gaze onto Takka. It had come up with an idea--a secret proposal that Octobre had tried her best to lock away, but had not been strong enough to...

"Did you get into my containers?" came a low question suddenly. Octobre turned her head. Takka's eyes were lethal and fixed on her, his countenance devoid of the mirth at her expense he had just portrayed minutes before.

"No," Octobre answered. Takka's gaze held fast. Octobre remained unmoved.

"You know that if you ever try to steal from me," he drawled darkly, "I will kill you." Octobre believed him.

"I understand," she replied. She had shown no signs of lying or of being afraid of him. Both of those facts proceeded to stick in the stallion's mind like talons and he sneered in response. He whisked away into one of his many supply dens, perhaps eager to catch Octobre in a lie and find something missing, or perhaps just needing to revel in his multitude of things--to convince himself that all was there, and all was well. As he counted and re-counted, however, he found that it was not helping to cool his composure. He continued to think of the bottles in the stump in the clearing. While Taka wasn't able to organize and keep track of his belongings like most others could, he was always able to tell when something was off. If Octobre had stolen something or done something, he didn't know yet. But regardless, he knew that something about her presence was growing into something unbearable, and he didn't know why. But Takka wasn't one for mulling over questions. When something irritated him, he acted on it promptly, and most of the time with much greater haste than one should. Now was just another such instance.

Rushing from the closet of fallen trees, Takka made his way back into the clearing. He found Octobre had ever-so-graciously taken it upon herself to right several bottles he had knocked over in his flurry to get to away. He burned holes in her through his mask. If she was aware of his presence, she didn't show it, which gave Takka an uncharacteristic pause in decision over how to proceed. Scold her? Attack her? Send her away?

Octobre, meanwhile, was of course fully aware of two blazing green eyes tearing their way through her flesh. She knew she'd perhaps touched one too many of Takka's things. For someone so bent on the manipulation of others, however, she thought the stallion was very remiss in his pursuit to understand motivation. If one wants to control another, one must first understand another. Takka, it seemed, had a decent pool of generalizations he applied to others based on a few noted attributes, but nothing beyond. He clearly craved to be seen as enigmatic and complex, and yet he was simple-minded enough for Octobre to understand him completely. He never bothered to find out why Octobre kept fiddling with his things--why she consistently chose to vex him. In truth, his feelings had been far from her mind. She cared not if something annoyed him or pleased him. Her fiddling was like the nervous fidgeting of a child who cannot sit still--someone who cannot focus due to too many things on their mind--someone desperate to find any means of distraction from an overbearing thought...

"I know what's going through your head, Octobre," Takka declared with a powerful air. "There's only ever one thing going on in your head."

That might've been true. He might've been close to her secret, but not close enough. But it was true that the male's supply of blood had dwindled. She had rummaged through his things before. He was right. She hadn't stolen, however, just observed...counted. Two left. Two was too few--too little to stay the beast in her mind. When Takka was occupied, she'd smelled the remaining samples herself--opened the lids with her teeth and seen the crimson sparkling into her eyes. But it was upon smelling the contents of those two innocent-looking containers that Octobre's secret idea had rushed to the forefront of her mind--an idea that had risen during their first conversation. In the moment she had smelled the contents of those two little containers, there had been no denying it any longer. Opening the lids had only made it stronger. And try as she might, she could not quash it.

Octobre raised her head and leveled with Takka's glare. She never gave him the respect or fear he expected--no, deserved. His nose wrinkled deeply under his mask. He was done with her.

"One bottle isn't enough anymore," the male accused without inflection, moving in a wide arc around the mare. "So what, you wanted to take a few more without paying, huh?" Oh, how wrong he was, Octobre thought. What a fool. The many wheels in her mind had been turning rapidly the moment the male had begun to unravel in his slow-building tantrum. She was weaving a web much quicker than the male could think or act on, of that she was certain. Soon it would be woven fully. "You planning on taking them when my back is turned?!" Takka snapped suddenly. Octobre merely stared. At first this enraged the stallion, but then it caused him to second-guess himself. Was he being paranoid? NO! She was planning something, he knew it. Something had been moved among his bottles, he knew that much. It had been her. The why's didn't matter, she had been meddling. She had done something. And yet doubt still lingered. But his irritable nature was enough to overshadow his reason, even in this case.

"You don't think I can get more?" Takka asked, nodding to where he kept the blood. Octobre took precisely three steps back and looked in his gestured direction. "After everything I did," Takka growled, taking three steps forward to make sure the mare never got the better of him, "After I saved your life..."

The bitter dealer, Octobre mused. It suited him well. Octobre had asked one of Takka's many suppliers about pokeweed berries quite some time ago, however, and had learned all about their various effects in a very short span of time thanks to the talkative herbalist she'd been pushed onto while Takka had to go "tend to a client". After using some hypotheticals, Octobre had learned that her life had been in no danger from the amount of berry juice she had ingested.

She took another three steps back. Takka followed as predicted.

"Now you're scared?" Takka nearly laughed. What a joke. "Maybe now you have reason to be. Anything to confess?"

"If you were to count your supplies, you would see it's all there," Octobre answered without missing a beat. Takka's lips parted incredulously. She wanted to talk to him about his stuff?

"It's not about the NUMBER!" Takka roared, wings rolling up like a prodded predator. "You touched something, I know you did!" Octobre blinked somberly. The stallion almost couldn't believe his eyes. She was truly the most obnoxious creature he had ever had to deal with in his entire life. "Here," the male continued with zeal, closing the gap between himself and the hollowed stump he kept the bottles of blood in. As he did, his front-right hoof pressed into incredibly soft ground, and no sooner had that thought registered than Takka's entire world spun in a flurry of gravitational pulls and blurs. His leg was pulled off the ground, and nearly his upper-body, except there was a snap, and then he came crashing down to the ground with an earth-shaking thud. There was the clattering of scattered bone beads and he was vaguely aware of cool air on his face--his mask had flown off. The series of events had happened so quickly and unexpectedly that the male had not even registered fully what had happened before his eyes opened wearily to find two cloven hooves readied above him, both of which came crashing down on his head. He blacked out on impact.

Octobre's breaths came even and steady, and with a light toss of her head moved a loose strand of hair out of her face. She only allowed herself a brief moment to take in what she had accomplished because she didn't know how much time she had. She took in a deep breath through her nostrils and let her eyes fall shut at its median.

His scent.

Lids snapping open, the mares eyes were lit with a ravenous thirst. They fell upon her target and she knelt beside him in an elegant sweep of motion. Her wings stretched out to cradle him, her stature seeming even smaller at the unusual closeness of their bodies. She lowered her lips to his neck and let them rest against his skin. Her eyelids felt too heavy to keep lifted, her breaths puffs of steam.

Carefully, carefully, had she planned. In silence had she woven her web, a seamstress of secrets, never letting sign or signal escape past her mask. She had been frightened at first, but her boldness had grown with time, understanding, experience. The debt had been a setback--the extras, a bonus. But all had played a part in advancement towards her true goal.

The offspring of a Kalona and a Kirin...

She had not sampled that blood type yet.

"T a k k a ," her breath rattled over each syllable. His name was not his own, but his blood's--his type. She tested the feel and the sound and liked it.

Muscles quivering without order, the mare closed in tighter around her subject, unable to draw out the process any longer. Hovering closely, sharpened teeth sank in slightly, then deeply. Hot liquid flooded her mouth and she held it with a sigh before swallowing.

Takka.

Pulse.

Takka.

Fill.

Takka.

Swallow.

Hot-blooded Takka...

Lick.

Caught like a fly...

The experience consumed her, body and soul. Time was lost. All was lost. All but the drink. The memorization. The ecstasy.


When she roused out of it all, it gently occurred to her that she should leave. She let reality seep back in, prickling and tugging, and cast a look to the stallion with teeth marks in his neck, blood drying. He slept on. Her head tilted only just slightly as she observed his unmasked face.

How would he feel when he woke, she wondered? Would he rage? Scream? Cry? Laugh? Chase her to the ends of the earth? Refuse to acknowledge that she ever existed? All of the above? Foolish boy, she thought to herself. He could've been much greater than he was--someone truly to fear. He stopped just short. And perhaps it was just as well, at least for her sake. She rose to her feet and folded her wings neatly. A heavy breath was her final word.

She turned away and disappeared into the woods.