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Description
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Sesshoumaru watched from the shadows, watched the child and woman his father died for. He felt the bitterness and the rage well up in his chest and he watched as the infant with snow white ears painted meaningless designs in his spilled applesauce.

Abomination!

A half bred waste of air that Sesshoumaru longed to rid the earth of. The woman, the human who had snatched his father away with her delicate body and naive innocence, turned her back on her creative child, fretting, as only a human noblewoman could, over the linens her servants had brought her. Sesshoumaru took that opportunity to enter their house. The infant, with hearing far superior to his mother's, caught the faint rustling of Sesshoumaru's silk sleeves, and turned towards him with inquisitive gold eyes.

Sesshoumaru's nostrils flared, and his hand crept towards the blade he kept strapped at his side. He could end the child and disappear before that human whore had time to turn around and wail pitifully at the loss. His fingers flexed, but moved no further.

Just a few feet away, silhouetted against the shoji screen that separated them, the half breed's mother let out a laugh that scraped across his senses like a rust. He turned his eyes back to the child and found that it was staring back up at him, completely still, fingers sticky with its food.

It would be easy to kill the child; it couldn't fight back.

His hand fell away from the hilt of his blade. Too easy. There was no glory to be had from murdering infants, no matter how abominable they were.

He heard the tabi padded feet of the abomination's mother, felt the gentle shift of the air as she slid open the shoji door, and then felt the vibration of her gasp. Her scent changed from amusedly annoyed to fearful and it was obvious a change to him as the shift between living and death was to anyone else.

The fear that danced her eyes was second only to the defiance that danced there as well.

"I have heard of you," she said, putting herself between him and her child. "Your father warned me of your cruelty and your hatred."

He regarded her dispassionately, "He knew nothing of my hatred."

She glared at him fiercely, "He knew everything!"

Sesshoumaru stepped closer to her, lifting his clawed fingers to her neck. She flinched but didn't move away. This was the being who made his father hate him; this princess was the wedge that drove them apart. That child, the unfortunate fruit of their twisted pleasures, would be the price she would pay for the destruction of their great line.

His hand dropped from her neck, and he turned his back on them both, leaving the way he had come. There was no sport or glory to be had in striking down infants; he would kill the abomination when it could lift a sword and fight him back. He would beat it to its knees and bleed the life from it, be repaid for the shame of the line drop by crimson drop.

Behind him the tender scent of sorrow mingled with hope, and she called to him, "Your father was wrong, Lord Sesshoumaru."

The demon lord closed his eyes and dreamt of the blood he would spill, "No, he was not."

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Description
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Sesshoumaru watched from the shadows, watched the child and woman his father died for. He felt the bitterness and the rage well up in his chest and he watched as the infant with snow white ears painted meaningless designs in his spilled applesauce.

Abomination!

A half bred waste of air that Sesshoumaru longed to rid the earth of. The woman, the human who had snatched his father away with her delicate body and naive innocence, turned her back on her creative child, fretting, as only a human noblewoman could, over the linens her servants had brought her. Sesshoumaru took that opportunity to enter their house. The infant, with hearing far superior to his mother's, caught the faint rustling of Sesshoumaru's silk sleeves, and turned towards him with inquisitive gold eyes.

Sesshoumaru's nostrils flared, and his hand crept towards the blade he kept strapped at his side. He could end the child and disappear before that human whore had time to turn around and wail pitifully at the loss. His fingers flexed, but moved no further.

Just a few feet away, silhouetted against the shoji screen that separated them, the half breed's mother let out a laugh that scraped across his senses like a rust. He turned his eyes back to the child and found that it was staring back up at him, completely still, fingers sticky with its food.

It would be easy to kill the child; it couldn't fight back.

His hand fell away from the hilt of his blade. Too easy. There was no glory to be had from murdering infants, no matter how abominable they were.

He heard the tabi padded feet of the abomination's mother, felt the gentle shift of the air as she slid open the shoji door, and then felt the vibration of her gasp. Her scent changed from amusedly annoyed to fearful and it was obvious a change to him as the shift between living and death was to anyone else.

The fear that danced her eyes was second only to the defiance that danced there as well.

"I have heard of you," she said, putting herself between him and her child. "Your father warned me of your cruelty and your hatred."

He regarded her dispassionately, "He knew nothing of my hatred."

She glared at him fiercely, "He knew everything!"

Sesshoumaru stepped closer to her, lifting his clawed fingers to her neck. She flinched but didn't move away. This was the being who made his father hate him; this princess was the wedge that drove them apart. That child, the unfortunate fruit of their twisted pleasures, would be the price she would pay for the destruction of their great line.

His hand dropped from her neck, and he turned his back on them both, leaving the way he had come. There was no sport or glory to be had in striking down infants; he would kill the abomination when it could lift a sword and fight him back. He would beat it to its knees and bleed the life from it, be repaid for the shame of the line drop by crimson drop.

Behind him the tender scent of sorrow mingled with hope, and she called to him, "Your father was wrong, Lord Sesshoumaru."

The demon lord closed his eyes and dreamt of the blood he would spill, "No, he was not."

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