Guilian opened his mouth to argue that it was only right to have a reason. But he closed it again, knowing that after the things he'd done in the past few weeks, he could no longer claim righteousness and justice. He realised that the man's life was forfeit anyway, even if he could force himself to turn away and do nothing. Standing here in this place, he could feel the darkness start to fill his senses - the sound of it resonating from what could only be the very bricks and stones surrounding him.
Lashing out would sate his need straight away, that much he knew. When Rabastan spoke to him like that, whispering deeply as he suggested that he take it slow, and control the magic, he almost laughed. Almost. If he didn't know better, he'd think this was just like sex, and the darkness was a lover that he had to caress. He could please her quickly, but then she'd want more and more, or he could do what she wanted slowly, teasing her to the edge again and again and again.
He didn't tell Rabastan the analogy that cropped into his thoughts, but he did want to hear the siren song of the dark singing its praises to him. His hand shook as he raised his wand, his lips so dry despite his constant need to lick them and keep them moist. As he thought a slow, dark curse that he could easily control, he found it already slipping from the end of his wand.
The muggle barely felt anything at first, but then Guilian had send the blood boiling curse to actually start off slowly. The man's blood was very slowly heating up, and he let it unfurl with almost painful precision, seemingly taking forever to let his blood come to the boil. At first, his victim writhed a little uncomfortably, and slowly, as his blood began to heat, he began to itch and cry out. He could see the veins and blood vessels almost start to move under the man's skin as the worthless blood started to heat, expanding as he began to cry in pain.
Guilian felt the darkness infuse him as he cast the spell, it's comfortable warmth start to wrap itself around him. But he stopped it from enveloping him completely as he held enough control on his senses to almost caress it into submission. As the man's screams began to hurt his eardrums, he turned to Rabastan. He could hold this dark power like this now, and even as his magic rewarded him, he could hear it begging him for more. The longer he kept at it, the more out of control it wanted to get.
Suddenly, he stopped altogether. The man's screams ceased, but he heard the cry from the sirens, begging him to start up again. He had no regard for his victim, other than to see that he was not dead. But right now, filled with darkness, he felt almost invincible, and he breathed deeply, the confidence in him brimming as he looked over to Rabastan for more direction.