08-01-2018, 12:40 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/ i'm gonna die crappy post but like i said. dying.
Gabe wasn't the only one with an injury. The broken part of his antler (bandaged by Gabriel) still throbbed, the cuts on his throat (also bandaged by Gabriel) stung as exertion heated up every inch of his skin under short black fur. Were dogs capable of sweating, Laz would be coated in it — instead, hot breath leaves his mouth in a harsh pant and his paws feel slick even on thick grass. Most of his fights began and ended within a minute, blood leaking hot to the ground and a startled expression on his opponent's face. The hybrid who'd picked him out a crowd all those months ago was a little more dangerous than that. From the start, there'd been a certain wariness, even fear, to his dealings with Gabriel. He'd plucked out eyes and left corpses that used to be people he'd looked up to. Fighting him now feels like confronting an old fear, but also like tearing up the only thing that'd ever — mattered. There's redemption and grief mixing in his chest, right alongside the adrenaline. It's not what he'd expected it to be like, pinning him to the ground, paws on either side. More confusing than victorious.
There's a beak in his muzzle anyway, and Lazarus almost roars, shaking his head so fiercely that more drops of red splatter against Gabriel's fur. Mongrel cuts deeper than his talons, but the next phrase almost makes him laugh even with all the bile rising up in his throat. He has to pretend like it's the bite that finally pushes him over the edge, not the permission he was given in a voice nobody else could hear. For a moment, just before it twists to rage, guilt pulls his mouth tight. "¿Por qué no? En cualquier lugar es mejor que esto." He rears up and slams down within a second, the sickening crunch of bones making his stomach twist for the first time in his life. He doesn't (can't) wait for Gabriel's reaction before ducking down to fix his jaws around his throat (gently, gentler than usual, but still enough that he can feel him breathe, feel his pulse). He mutters a heavy "Lo siento," against him before lifting and shaking, releasing just at the right point to send the hybrid a good distance away.
Instead of chasing, the Cane Corso stands there with bristled fur, bloodied mouth bared in a snarl. "Vete, anciano."
Gabe wasn't the only one with an injury. The broken part of his antler (bandaged by Gabriel) still throbbed, the cuts on his throat (also bandaged by Gabriel) stung as exertion heated up every inch of his skin under short black fur. Were dogs capable of sweating, Laz would be coated in it — instead, hot breath leaves his mouth in a harsh pant and his paws feel slick even on thick grass. Most of his fights began and ended within a minute, blood leaking hot to the ground and a startled expression on his opponent's face. The hybrid who'd picked him out a crowd all those months ago was a little more dangerous than that. From the start, there'd been a certain wariness, even fear, to his dealings with Gabriel. He'd plucked out eyes and left corpses that used to be people he'd looked up to. Fighting him now feels like confronting an old fear, but also like tearing up the only thing that'd ever — mattered. There's redemption and grief mixing in his chest, right alongside the adrenaline. It's not what he'd expected it to be like, pinning him to the ground, paws on either side. More confusing than victorious.
There's a beak in his muzzle anyway, and Lazarus almost roars, shaking his head so fiercely that more drops of red splatter against Gabriel's fur. Mongrel cuts deeper than his talons, but the next phrase almost makes him laugh even with all the bile rising up in his throat. He has to pretend like it's the bite that finally pushes him over the edge, not the permission he was given in a voice nobody else could hear. For a moment, just before it twists to rage, guilt pulls his mouth tight. "¿Por qué no? En cualquier lugar es mejor que esto." He rears up and slams down within a second, the sickening crunch of bones making his stomach twist for the first time in his life. He doesn't (can't) wait for Gabriel's reaction before ducking down to fix his jaws around his throat (gently, gentler than usual, but still enough that he can feel him breathe, feel his pulse). He mutters a heavy "Lo siento," against him before lifting and shaking, releasing just at the right point to send the hybrid a good distance away.
Instead of chasing, the Cane Corso stands there with bristled fur, bloodied mouth bared in a snarl. "Vete, anciano."
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｢ GRAVE DIGGER, GRAVE DIGGER. [url=https://beastsofbeyond.com/index.php?topic=7333.msg48711#msg48711]INFO. ｣