[m] Take these broken wings

Moath · (This post was last modified: March 07, 2019, 01:46 PM by Moath.)

There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

His hold caused a screech, almost like a dog whistle that tried to bleed his ears. Grip re-adjusted as heavy forelimbs held her down. Behemoth jaws that had ended so many before her jabbed for her face, his desire to hush her squeals and screams overpowering his current urge to murder. The vice bear trapped her fragile features, raking rancid daggers over snout, ripping and pulling flesh here and there, having his morbid way with his dismay he unleashed on the weakening soul beneath him. Lips were snatched from her, blood and gore flailing as she tried her most hardest to free herself from the mammoth-weight man...her terror only intensified with her agony as those fearful eyes were too snatched from a twisting and flailing skull.

Thistle now exhausted herself, her fighting to free herself coming to a close as she remained panting and bleeding out. She had fought valiantly, but there was no honor here. Moath did not recognize honor, nor pride, horror, nor injustice. He knew only death, and so he would embrace her into his Void.
Lowering his own bloodstained jowls on the nape of the barely breathing woman, the jaws tightened against a particular set of vertebrae, and squeezed. Harder and harder his bite force increased, and with a torrential jerk of a steelboned set of shoulders, he felt a break, and a snap. It was muffled, meat covering the pops like someone had tried to shush them-

But Moath knew what he had done.

The thread of the wilted woman had snapped...
and floated away in the bloody breeze.

And in silence, he waited.