It would take great patience to take this prey.
It would take great patience.
The fox had patience aplenty. The fox had patience and cunning to spare, and wit, and guile, and beauty. He would wait forever for this particular morsel.

Inari, when he looks at me I feel like I'm drowning. It's the most terrifying thing in the three realms, and it's as natural as breathing. He'll never give me what I want, and yet I always catch myself hoping...

The fox preens and arranges himself delicately, exquisitely, within his den. Perfect for viewing, perfect for touching... perfect. Being, an important part of the demon heritage...

He won't come any closer. He never comes any closer, and it doesn't matter what I do...

The fox uncurls himself, removes himself from nose-to-tail, and insinuates himself away from the bed over to the side of the prey. He smiles and his teeth are white and pointed. He speaks, and his voice is soft and velvet.

I have to fight for the opportunity to touch him, to allow my fingers to linger. Inari, would that I could knot my fingers in that hair, hold him still for long enough to tell him-- but that would frighten him away.

The fox, tired of waiting at last, decides to try an experiment. He extends a pink-tipped paw, barely touches the brow of the prey.

And like that, with a glance as startled as that of any rabbit, he's gone. For two days, three, four, a week, a month, a year, forever? Inari only knows. It saddens me. It saddens me that I can't explain to him how desperately I want him to never hurt again, it saddens me that still, after all this time, he's afraid.

The fox retreats to the bed and curls up again, allowing the slightest sigh of disappointment. The prey flees once more, away until the fox can find and stalk him once again. Always once more. The prey is both wily and alert. One day, the prey will forget to look, forget to listen...

Maybe then, he'll let me show him what I mean.

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