Moonspear and breathe in time [m]

He deflected the bulk of the boy's attack with his shoulder, but there was still tenderness rising there, and the beast winced as he dove towards the boy's pale body. He snapped and grabbed, tore at what he could touch, but never held anything for long. Perhaps it was his own ego that clouded his jugement in this spontaneous moment, or maybe he was truly exhausted after having his way with the dark woman — but Lazarus was a touch slower than he should have been. Riled, yes, and filled with a viciously antagonistic spirit, but somehow everything was dulled by the after-effects of his love-making; and that is how he saw it, truly. Amekaze dancing before him, Lazarus planting himself as she desired atop her, the ensuing dominance, the dance of teeth — and the only thing out of place (to the monstrous warrior anyhow) was the appearance of Charon. But that would be remedied. Lazarus was intent on freeing the mountain of this child, of taking Amekaze as his own, fully, more-so than he had before, repeatedly — until the mountain quaked from his efforts and the world was consumed by his desires.

While Lazarus wanted to have his way with the dark woman, Charon wanted to have his way with him — a different method, but still some form of closeness, some kind of physical communion. Lazarus felt this in the air, was electrified by it as he had been by Amekaze, and grinned wholeheartedly while the boy pursued him. The blows came, their teeth met, flesh upon flesh and blood drawn, their white coats covered with the crimson fluid within moments. Lazarus would not kneel before this child any longer. Not now, not ever. He ruled this mountain — he had taken what he'd wanted, and this boy was too weak to contest him — and the persistence of Charon's anger was a marvel to behold.

Lazarus was a poor judge of the situation. He had poorly judged everything from the moment he'd stepped upon the mountain, but it would only dawn upon him later - if at all. They tussled and danced, all the while Charon drove him closer to the edge, until Lazarus felt the mountain crumbling on his heel; and he then adjusted his footing and launched himself forward, refusing to let this fool take what he had worked so hard to earn. But as he vaulted at Charon his weight was mis-managed, and the mountain did crumble beneath him regardless. He was not fast enough to stay upon the ledge, and was suddenly sliding rear-first down it — and yet still Lazarus fought for control, snapping and grabbing, trying to sink his teeth in to Charon and pull the boy down with him.