Cobain was pissed.

I think that was a fair enough description, it was the accurate words to describe the way his eyes were narrowed and his lips were twisted, his fanged teeth glistening dangerously behind his lips. There was a malicious sort of stoic gaze in his eyes. He was a wiry boy, though he had a secret strength given to him by his mistress. Slim around his waist with long limbs, he was an odd looking creature, especially with his burning red eyes. He grits his teeth as he moves through Syn, he was given a task and normally, he did not mind these things Risque ordered him to do, it got him away from her, from Dracy, and any night where he would not have to lay red eyes upon his mistress and her...lover was a good one in Cobain's books.

Deep red eyes narrow once more just thinking about what he would have to endure this evening. This has been some of the longest days that Risque has kept him around for in a long time. More often than not, Cobain was on the road; hunting. He had not been kept around this long since Tetradore had been no more than a little cub and they had all taken turns torturing the little twerp. He had easily become one of Risque's favorite and Cobain was then allowed his freedom. But now, the red eyed demon child was being kept under his mistress's thumb and he had no choice in the matter. The hell child was sick of having no choice. The dark haired boy was sick of being toyed with.

He brushes a hand through dark black locks with a certain amount of frustration. That lanky, yet toned body walks through Syn, the home of both beasts and monsters. The pale boy needs a moment, just a moment before he must endure this night with Darcy. He ducks behind a wall and can almost feel some sense of silence come over him. Cobain had come to terms long ago with what he is, though that does not mean he has found any sense of peace. He is simply what he is.

A monster.

Maybe, in the end, that is why he stays on the island of misfit toys, here are other monsters living among the shale-cast shadows, with hearts so twisted and poisoned, it's easy to blend in. There are other monsters here that have done far worse. Cobain can cast his sins onto the fire and the hell child can watch them burn to ash along with everyone else's.

His eyes for once, are dark and dangerous instead of ruby red. But he stares out into the distance, wrapped in a blanket off apathy as silver eyes and blonde hair dances before his vision. The monster inside him grins and lurches him forward. Cobain convinces himself he is indifferent to her fate. She can die and he won't bat an eyelash. Any part of him that houses any sort of compassion or caring had fastened itself to a balloon and floated peacefully away, far from all this. They have said that guilt and the dissolving of one's sanity, is something that comes quickly and sharp, but not for Cobain. It simply drifts away like clouds, so slow you hardly notice it passing until it has.

Silver.

Blonde.

You should kill her.

A part him thinks, maybe he will. And in a way he begins thinking of her as such. Thinking of her as his prey. His prey. hat an odd phrase to use after such a long time. No, Cobain is not a predator, and she was no prey, she is not even really a victim, just someone.

Someone who is going to die, Cobain?

Someone who is going to die.

Was this going to continue to torture him? She was a wretched thing, the way she twirled around without a care, without chains to bind her. Maybe Cobain is jealous, but the monster inside him feels no desire to be her, it simply wants to see her lifeless body upon the ground and to never have to look at those silver eyes again. Then, why couldn't he kill her?

He finally comes out from the shadows, knowing if he did not find Darcy soon, Risque would find Darcy, without Cobain, which means Risque would come to find him. Which, for Cobain, it would certainly not end well. The lanky vampire moves through the crowd, those eyes still dark, his thirst quenched for now, and they flicker every which way, trying to spot the man. It is only when he moves towards the stairs that Cobain seems to find him.

Cobain sighs inwardly, this was going to be a long night already, he could tell. Just looking at Darcy makes Cobain fill with a sort of rage that only the twisted cowboy could bring out of him. HIs sick affection for their mistress only made everything worse. He looked upon Risque like she was some sort of god rather than the she devil she truly was. His soul was damned anyway, maybe he could take Darcy out too. But he knows, he knows he is not strong enough against the man, and even if, somehow, he got the upper hand on Darcy, he knows the maker's voice inside of Cobain's head would never allow any sort of harm to be fall the man from his hand.

"Darcy," he practically growls out towards the man. "Risque has requested a job...for the two of use to attend to," he says, already clearly annoyed with the prospect. This was certainly not Cobain's idea of an ideal evening. Earthen eyes narrow as they begin to grow red slowly. "Are you ready to go now, or do you need to kiss Risque's ass again before we go?"