Honour

He licked at the congealing blood drying on his lips, the tangy copper flavour bursting on his taste buds, causing a deep tingling sensation that sunk down into his stomach, a warm feeling finally settling over his bones after many months of neglect.

This latest kill had been perfect. The screeching, high pitched panicked screams were music to his ears; so sweet to listen to as he idly sliced into the other dragons’ stomach lining. The mere remembrance was enough to cause a satisfied shiver to run down his spine.

That wasn’t his favourite part though; far from it. From victim to victim, from kills that span from weeks to months to years, that one part has been very consistent. It was to watch the lingering flash of utter betrayal and shock fill their eyes as they gazed at him pleadingly, begging, hoping above hope that perhaps just this once, he’ll take mercy on their pathetically weak selves. At that moment, he is the centre of that person’s universe; their god- the one that could make, or break them, the one that could spare them, or the one that could take it all away with one slight flick of the wrist.

The first big splash of blood that sprays over his face always somehow manages to catch him by surprise, and never fails to provoke a giddy, slightly hysteric laugh from his parched throat. Giggling, leaning forward over a freshly made corpse, blood splattered all over his front, a manic grin twisting harshly on his lips- he was in heaven. Or as close as he’ll get to it personally.