[center][@Dartbored Fairy][/center]


	The gentle rush of Mili’s blood pulsed rhythmically against his fingertips. His fingers a siphon. Her jugular a pump. His whispered words of stimulation; flattering, coaxing, enticing her sweet life force to join with his. It rushed up his arms, gorging his body, filling his senses, granting him strength, draining her own. Soon they’ll be one – 

	Now she enters! 

	[i]"You deplorable hag – No!"[/i] These telepathic words scream through Pirila's mind, though not in the voice of a man, rather the voice of Mili. Simultaneously, Dnias straightens his posture, turning and deflecting the dice with a powerful swipe of one arm. The wooden cube, now engulfed in flames, returns toward Pirila’s head at twice the velocity. 

	With his fingertips no longer in communion with Mili, the child will no doubt awaken; perhaps stirred by the breaking of his contact that kept her asleep, or perhaps by the searing heat of his fingerprints burnt into the delicate skin of her neck. On any accord, the process has been interrupted. He was not able to complete the feast at his leisure. But she will, now, always be branded with his mark… his beacon… until he returns to complete his feast.  

	The Vector Pathol, an organism, which resembles a starfish wrapped about his left wrist, illuminates. The sage light it generates encloses his person. The atmosphere surrounding him shutters. The air appears to crack like shattering glass, yet for but a moment before Dnias is gone.