The night is cool, dark and silent - an environment Koshiro spent so much time in, it started to feel like home. Cold moonlight illuminates the garden's flowers, making them look almost somber compared to daytime. The fox stares out into the night sky in quiet solitude, his golden-orange eyes seeming to glow in the dark as he absentmindedly runs his tongue along the pointy end of one of his fangs.

They were always sharp - as expected of a fox - but this is something else entirely. He tries to remember what they felt like before all of this: before the infection, before the hunger, before he so intimately knew the taste of blood. Gods, when was the last time he fed? Years of rigorous training had instilled strong resolve, allowing him to resist temptation, but it's always there in the back of his mind, growing stronger every day.

He's snapped out of his daydream when his ears pick up approaching footsteps, head snapping to face their source as his eyes widen in recognition. "A-ah, your highness!" his voice takes on an uncharacteristically high pitch of surprise before he clears his throat and recompose himself. "What are you doing out so late? Is something the matter?"

It's not usual for you to be awake this late, so he patiently waits for an answer. Koshiro's eyes dart down and linger on your neck for a moment before he quickly looks back up - silently hoping you didn't notice.