[ There's definite interest in the way IV's looking at it, too, as it forms out of the slime.

(the hunger, though, is Dark Mist's alone)

He raises an eyebrow, when he feels the tendril curling over his hands.

(it's warm, and almost... soft?)

(the voice resonates in his head, makes his eyes glaze over for a moment)

(does he ｗａｎｔ something...?) ]

I--

[ He shakes his head, sharply. Clears it. ]

What was...?