Wheeling Gull Isle bismil

THUD, thump, snap--snap--qshhhhhhhhhhh----

blood, bone, crack, and the give of flesh to teeth, then--

a blinding pain (stockholm's collar slicing open his face, his lips, his tongue), tears blurring his vision.

more shadows came, one by one. an impact, then another, then another.

but whatever had taken over aditya was urging him to kill, kill,, KILL--and so he tore and ripped, bit and scratched, mindlessly, sightlessly, a whirlwind fury, a chaos, a tempest, like the storm that had brought him here;

and it was only when fangs sank into a pelt that was black rather than brown did everything stop suddenly,

the earth lurching to a dizzying halt,

and he realized the weight of what he had done.

adi stumbled back--if he could--covered head to toe in blood (either his or theirs). his golden eyes were wide as the harvest moon, blank with shock, his mouth, torn to shreds, hanging open. staring at coelacanth, who had entered the fray--who he'd hurt.

the wolf he had never meant to hurt. the woman he loved more than his own life. and he'd thrown it in her face. he had met her resistance with violence, and he--rightfully--had bled for it.

and he had hurt her, too.

"mujhe maf kar do," he gasped, his voice choked in sobs that came suddenly, more terrifying than his snarls, the tears mixing with blood. "haye, bhagwaan, haye coelacanth--mujhe maf kijiye--i'm sorry, GOD, i'm sorr--what have i done--"

he braced himself for more impact, more assault. he deserved it. he hoped they'd kill him. in this moment, he wanted nothing more but to die.

all he could do was apologize. in his tongue and theirs. over and over and over again, 'til he sounded alien and possessed, wanting so badly to embrace her--

--and knowing he would never touch her again.