[ Driven by their agreed-upon pact, it is his very soul that he antes up. Nary a hesitation in him, where perhaps there ought to be; a god is the soul, the embodiment of something metaphysical made into the shape of something tangible, and as Sebastian rakes his tongue across the smooth surface of the shard that manifests as the shape and make of the god's soul, he feels the draw-and-tug of feasting upon him. It crawls from his guts into his chest, like being hooked at a single point and pulled into a point there.
The threat of being eaten whole is one he's never experienced before, not in such a way as this. The actual act of consumption, especially by a hedonistic glutton, leaves his head spinning and shoulders pressing forward, tension lining his limbs — a sense of defensiveness, rather than fear, and a strange sensation of delight. He's not found disgusting in flavor, it seems. To be palatable to someone? To find his soul, the seat of his being, something tasteful in the mouth of someone — anyone — is oddly soothing.
Addictive.
Sebastian is very close, when he finishes. For a moment, Set hovers in silent. His expression vaguely stunned, as though he expected the demon to reject him ( find him lacking, find him undesirable not at all to his tastes ), only to clearly witness the opposite.
What does that say about me? he wants to ask, but the prick of the demon's teeth demands instant, animal retaliation. Startled, but not wrathful, Set's own teeth snag at the face of the creature still bowed before him, scoring small patch of skin along the curve of his ear. Two cats, at that, one acting and one retaliating without thinking; two natural things, inhuman at their core, simply acting upon one another. He, too, has teeth. Claws that extend when he curls his fingers, like the paw of a cat. A wild and brash thing to Sebastian's cultivated domestication; he bleeds all the same. ]
YES AND YOU BENEFIT!!
The threat of being eaten whole is one he's never experienced before, not in such a way as this. The actual act of consumption, especially by a hedonistic glutton, leaves his head spinning and shoulders pressing forward, tension lining his limbs — a sense of defensiveness, rather than fear, and a strange sensation of delight. He's not found disgusting in flavor, it seems. To be palatable to someone? To find his soul, the seat of his being, something tasteful in the mouth of someone — anyone — is oddly soothing.
Addictive.
Sebastian is very close, when he finishes. For a moment, Set hovers in silent. His expression vaguely stunned, as though he expected the demon to reject him ( find him lacking, find him
undesirablenot at all to his tastes ), only to clearly witness the opposite.What does that say about me? he wants to ask, but the prick of the demon's teeth demands instant, animal retaliation. Startled, but not wrathful, Set's own teeth snag at the face of the creature still bowed before him, scoring small patch of skin along the curve of his ear. Two cats, at that, one acting and one retaliating without thinking; two natural things, inhuman at their core, simply acting upon one another. He, too, has teeth. Claws that extend when he curls his fingers, like the paw of a cat. A wild and brash thing to Sebastian's cultivated domestication; he bleeds all the same. ]
I take it, that it was a fair prize.