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Red splattered the floor.
Sebastian's claws dragged through the skin, teeth parting in desperation as he bowed low, lure bright and burning as he sank into muscle.
It was a filthy thing he was doing- disgusting, horrid, awful. So many things screamed in protest but the snarl of his stomach urged his hands forever.
It burned with the first swallow.
Foul.
A gasp clawed up from his throat as it stuck between his teeth.
Foul.
The human beneath him had been a young woman. She had freckled skin and curly, dirty blonde hair. Her eyes had been a deep brown and nails the color of the sky. She couldn't have stood even half a chance beyond a body clearly built for agility.
Skin ripped and flesh tore.
She had been slaughtered by gunfire, the bullet holes piercing her shape, and the wounds served as great places to begin the task of feasting.
Sebastian hadn't even thought to drag her into the vents like he usually did. Really, it didn't even occur to him it might be wise. He was too caught up in the burning of blood in his mouth and the weight of flesh on his tongue. He hadn't even taken note of whatever research or items she may have on her person.
He was just- just hungry.
God, how long had it been since he had last eaten, to be acting like this?
Sebastian was disgusted by his own growling stomach. He was sure he'd wind up throwing all of this up, if it kept up, but he refused to let himself, just curling his claws around the expendable's arm.
Pull.
Stretch.
Until the damned thing ripped, her shoulder pinned by one hand while the other two tore the limb from it. Blood poured and a greedy tongue stretched outwards as he lifted it high.
Crunch.
Sebastian hated it.
He hated how easily his jaw fell, stretching past what should be possible. How his teeth pierced through the damn thing until the bones cracked under the pressure. How he didn't stop. How he dropped what didn't fit in his mouth, so he could drag the bone away, nearly forgetting that such a thing existed.
But it didn't matter.
Sebastian could eat around it.
His teeth scraped against the obstacle as he tore the skin off of it, and he sincerely hated how the blood stained his clothes. He just couldn't dwell on it. He instead pressed a hand to the rest of the arm, curling, waiting until he had nothing left and could start on that.
It didn't take long.
Shameful.
Sebastian shuddered when he switched his attention. It tasted like heaven, when he brought it up to his lips and let his teeth sink in, and that fact made him sick.
But he ate.
He survived.
He feasted.
The monster did not stop until he was finished with that limb, turning his attention to the desecrated corpse that lay dead, and it made his eternally empty stomach churn at the sight.
He wasn't sure if he was going to rid himself of what he had already ate or consume even more of it.
…his body made the decision for him.
Sebastian surged forward, snarling lowly, teeth sinking into the throat to rip the soft flesh away- all a taste of liquid gold. It encompassed him and coaxed him forward.
Just swallow. He didn't even need to chew, not for such a small morsel of a bite, and he pressed his third arm to her chin to give himself better access to the expanse, and he didn't stop until it couldn't go back any further.
Then he just put his energy into pulling off the head itself.
It was blissful, how easy that was.
Almost hilarious- if Sebastian was able to think straight enough to find humor at all, he would surely think it the funniest joke to be told. It didn't have that dramatic flair he always thought decapitation would hold.
There weren't any dramatic swings of an ax, or sword, and he had not strained. There was no wrestling. There was no surging music.
All it had now was the sound of creaking pipes and distant water, accompanied by the heavy breathing of a starved beast.
Crack.
Sebastian curled his claws into the skin of the corpse's chest after the heavy bone beneath gave way, ripping through the muscle and shoving it between his teeth.
It was disgusting.
It was delightful.
He was almost dizzy with it as he ducked his head, claws prying the ribcage apart, forcing flesh aside so he could get at the still heart. It was horribly fragile when he sank his teeth.
It tasted like iron.
But Sebastian ate anyway.
Ate, until he was forced to start prying flesh from the ribs. When had he been rid of her other arm? When had he snapped her spine, just to get at a specific piece of meat that he wanted?
He didn't know. He really, really didn't know. Sebastian hated that fact.
He missed his mom.
He survived.
He ate.
He ate, until his stomach stopped screaming, and yet he still could not see beyond the red and the quiet halls.
Oh…
Sebastian dragged a thumb over his lips to wipe away the mess. It was useless, he felt silly, even if he doubted anyone was still here. Painter never stayed when he did this. He was glad for that at least.
He grunted instead, forcing himself to pry away from the carcass, with its fleeting warmth and long-cold skin. He didn't even want to deal with the rest.
Something else would eat it.
Something else would always eat it.
Sebastian hated that fact.
He grimaced at it, even- even when he retreated to the vents, all too aware of the blood sticky to his scales, and he'd have to find a way to wash his clothes. He sincerely hated how it was drying. He sincerely hated everything about how it felt.
He could still taste the blood on his tongue and he desperately tried to ignore it.
He spat nothing out onto the ground before he fully retreated, but it didn't do much, and he felt like a fool.
Some sad, starved, hungry fool. Pathetic and weak. Sebastian could only force himself to move. His satiated mind longed to sleep, but he didn't dare do it… here.
Not here.
It wasn't safe, his instincts reasoned, even when he knew nowhere was fully safe. Nothing here was safe. This entire place was horrible for it. Sebastian despised how it made his eyes sting, but he didn't cry.
He didn't cry anymore. That's what he told himself.
Sebastian didn't cry.
He only retreated.
He wound through metal confines until he could slide down pipes, listening to how they creaked and groaned, and Sebastian wondered if this would be the impossible day where they gave. Wouldn't that be a fine ending to the day?
What a headache he'd have, though.
Sebastian wasn't even sure how he wound up back in his shop. It wasn't home but it was all he had even vaguely similar to that.
…okay.
Sebastian felt fuzzy. His head was stuffed full of cotton and his skin was dry and sticky. He felt cold. He kinda missed it.
I want my mom.
But Sebastian didn't get to have his mom anymore.
So, defeated, the monster dragged himself upwards, hauling his tail into the barren bedding atop the alcove. It was more like scraps of spare uniforms and scavenged towels from those old communal showers. He vaguely recalled them.
He'd have to go there, even if the pipes had long since burst in that section. Maybe he could find some leftover soap that had yet to be lost or used. Maybe it'd be able to clean off the blood. He hoped so.
Okay.
Sebastian didn't have to do any of that now, though, just dragging himself along, and he was fine with just shedding the pouches and jacket and scarf and shirt and all the bullcrap. Just so it'd stop sticking to his skin. It was driving him mad.
Okay.
Okay.
…he wished he had a blanket, but something so simple wouldn't be down here. Sebastian doubted they'd even have some squirreled away. Urbanshade never cared about comfort.
Blanket-less, Sebastian coiled his tail over itself, dragging his claws over it until it was satisfactory.
He survived.
He mourned.
He survived.
Exhausted.
So he let himself close his eyes.
He let himself sleep, just for now.
Just for now.