He cranes his neck side to side, a deep huff leaving him. Blood drips from his lips, souring his tongue with the taste of iron.

He relaxes, the warm night air brushing against his face. He has forgone his jacket and shirt, simply wearing pants and boots for the night.

A low yawn, the deity leaning back. "Erm. Everyone is so energetic this day . . ."

A pause, his lips curling into a slight frown. Perhaps he should go out more, meet new people.

His thoughts are interrupted, the old god opening a single eye. The pupil is a feline slit, narrowing to be almost invisible.

He sits up, the stars shifting ever so slightly with his movements. His lips curl into an impish smile, revealing pearl white fangs.

". . . . Hrm. Once again it grows quiet . . ."

He is the feared shadow of misfortune, and the revered sun of victory. He brings change through conflict, change through bloodshed and war.

He runs a finger over his lips, a familiar feeling of anger welling up in his gut.

The night is quiet, the stars still. And yet he still hunts, hunger gnawing at his gut.

The deity cranes his neck side to side, blank eyes scanning the city like a jaguar seeking prey.

A deep breath, smoke leaving his lips in rolling clouds of black.

". . . . . ." He shakes his head, shifting around as to not stare. That would be rude.

". . . . Tch. This scent. This feeling. There are others like me, but I can also smell him on the winds."

His grip tightens, the ceramic cup in his hand shattering into pieces. His face contorts into something between rage and surprise.

A snap of his teeth, lips peeled back into a snarl. Now he knows. His pupils are slits, feline and sharp with anger.

"Podría decir lo mismo de ti."

A harsh exhale, his headdress seated next to him. A hand runs through tightly curled black hair, his eyes closed in thought.

He rolls his shoulders, the deity releasing a cloud of glittering black smoke in a sigh.