The corpse hits the floor with a dull thud, and Pearl pushes herself onto her hands and knees with whatever strength she's able to summon. She looks down at the cat, yellow eyes open still, limbs splayed motionlessly on the floor, and a wave of terror and guilt washes over her features before the smell of blood hits her nostrils and she's gone.

There is nothing but instinct, nothing but the physical -- flesh caving beneath her frantic fingertips, fur scratching her lips and nose and blood, warm, wonderful blood flooding her mouth and spilling down her parched throat. It's not the same dizzying, near-electric taste of human blood, but she gratefully gulps it down all the same, feeling it surge through her veins, stirring her heart back to life. She drinks and drinks until there's nothing left and she's sucking at dry flesh and clumpy fur. With a snarl of disappointment she tears her mouth away, letting the useless sack of bones fall back to the floor.

The beast is not sated, but it has been quelled for now, and Pearl's consciousness seeps back in as her features reassume human shape and her eyes regain focus. Knowing this would happen makes her no more equipped for stomaching it, and she sharply turns away from the sight the moment she's processed it, burying her face in the crook of one bony arm.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs into the silence of the room, and swallows thickly through a shudder.