Bearclaw Valley My mind won’t let me rest

heavy, square head with blunt jowls and soft lips. merrick caught a glimpse of the violent teeth in the wide gumline, rising like thick spears. made his own appear as needles, though the brat prince was assured he had shed more blood than all he knew.
a plea for entry, though not quite a plea. rueful. boyish, despite the intense brilliance of the sea-siren stare. "i'm merrick. and you're right. this is ursus." tattered ears twitching, a smirk sliding onto his lips as he openly looked over the would-be joiner. "bishop." come to find his monastery, this fleshly place of thinly veiled homoeroticism. if greece was a la croix.
"what sort of shit do you like to kill?" velveteen purr; merrick's throat pouring oiled silk over wet stones as the serpent loosened its coils behind his eyes and awoke.