Since birth, Morag’s sweet scent enveloped him into a mass of pleasing. Whatever the woman wishes, Voorhees took no complaint in doing so. He’s a mama’s boy. Disappointing the one who gave him life is something that he refuses to do. Every step she takes, he is there in the shadows. Lurking. Snarling at those that get to close in proximity. Who dare breathe the same air as his mother. Their life must be taken. Especially ones that he does not see as his family.
Non NightWalkers are the enemy. He trust no one who does not walk the same grounds as he. They’re scum. Prey. A gift to be presented to his mother for her praise. Always wanting her attention. Needing the words of acceptance to fall from her lips. Oh. All that he would do for her. Such beauty. His mother. Sometimes, he mistakes those that bare the same coat as his mother. Following them. Stalking them. He can’t have his mother in a way that seems appropriate. But, those that look like her… Voorhees enjoys taking his frustrations out on them. Seething in their pain and torture as he uses them for his own desperate and discussing pleasures. He cares not who they are.
Whoever upsets Morag must die. Their blood soaking the furs of her den. Bones wore around her neck. Such collections. He loves to collect. Enjoys giving them to his mother. Hoping it’d bring them closer. Far closer to comfort.
Voorhees does enjoy the mangling of others. Watching punishment be bestowed on those that piss off his father and mother. Father. He looks at him as an ally and an enemy. Being so close to Morag. The male loathes him. Just as much as he loves him. Not as much as mother.
Forever her little baby boy. Eternally her servant.
♂, and Baby Firefly ♀