Blackwater Islands You live like you’re on camera

A large, foreboding, pale figure shows themselves in his peripheral. He doesn’t have to fully see them to know who it is. His old friend’s scent is enough for him to recognize. Only when he turns his head to meet her, he senses the same restlessness in her —

The itch for battle and the spilling of blood.

He would give her what she wants while also satisfying his own needs. He would be silent as he turns upon her, widening his stance and offering her a glance that would question her readiness. Whether or not he gets a go, he’d charge her. Opening his jaw wide and aiming teeth for her legs in a surprising first move. After all, if their legs are injured, they slower, and if they’re slower, they’re easier to kill.