Wapun Meadow boorish

the metalburn scent of blood; it coated the other's fangs, mouth. merrick shifted forward surreptitiously, consumed by the deepened thirst that suddenly parched his throat. to taste; to extend tonguetip to red drop at the corner of this pretty little parrot's jawline.
his nostrils flared. the single eye burned, and now merrick did approach, drawn by some force beyond himself to attend the presence of the bloodied angel. "seems like you might need a stitch or two," the rust-naped madman rasped, voice reaching for the hard glitter of gems behind that dark cerulean stare.
"merrick." an offering to tempt the flaxen cherub, even as the young coywolf began to truly suffer for the smeared crimson lips and the haunted features of this stranger.