Barrow Fields i'll keep my eyes fixed on the sun

@Iliksis staying vague again, dated for tomorrow

The air is like a burning vice, scorching every part of him, leaving nothing untouched. He is left without any sense of body or being, reduced to a mass of stinging aching misery, a battered toy soldier wound up and set to march along the coast without direction or purpose. It hurts, it hurts. But he doesn't feel a thing.
His captor, his tormentor, his brutal two-night-god is nowhere in sight, but he can still feel him. Around him, on him, embedded into his flesh and running through his veins. His legs stop moving suddenly and tremble fiercely, and he falls, he falls, he falls forever. But no — he meets the snow gracelessly an instant later, limbs tensing and flexing in automatic response to the coldness, and then goes still. His eyes fix on the dull blue sky, not truly seeing, with only his own heartbeat and the distant crashing waves for company.

the scent of cougar was fresh along the game-trail. iliksis resented its presence, and pressed forward through undergrowth where the scent faded. he was no match for a cougar, and had no wish to confront one -- not even if it was his preferred gender, and bound somehow. cats were slippery, and the wallop they packed in a single strike was enough to dislocate heads -- iliksis had every intention of finding his way out of this thicket and getting the fuck out of dodge until --

whump

the sound of a body collapsing on the snow: he knew that noise, because he had made many do it; it was a satisfying, controlling noise - the sound of meat smacking earth, the shift of destroyed will -- something in him rose in interest.

his mind warned him against searching (what if that was the cougar dropping its kill?) but his want outweighed the nagging (yabbut what if the kill is still alive, just alive enough...). he slithered through a brake of tanglewood, eyes on the slumped form ahead.

slumped, just alive enough... female -- or it looked it, until iliksis stood over the form and peered down at the rather disappointing presence of jewels beneath the hood. he frowned and glanced around him - the air was cold, but still. the cougar could be watching. (lets give it a show)

as he peered down on the utterly destroyed form of a wolf, ilksis marveled at how this creature wasn't dead. he was scarred beyond recognition, his fur coarse and utterly disheveled, and -- was that one eye? iliksis' mind lurched, thinking back to his preferred use of singular sockets. a smile threaded its way across his thin features and he feigned concern, his voice full of counterfeit empathy: "are you okay?"