Stavanger Bay I get caught up in your heart-strings

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: violence, gore, tagging @Rhaegal and @Vairë; this happened right inside the borders

lestan mayfair was not someone who fell to such blinding rage. he was a man who would rather allow a herd to pass unscathed and his belly continue empty than hunt, than shed blood. in this he was weak, a questioner of their natural order as predators and prey, a shrinking violet in the face of situations that demanded teeth, a paper tiger with a too-large vocabulary and nothing behind it.
but the long hours of that blackweald fever, through which lestan had stumbled in complete absence of god's face — it had summoned the terrified child stained with blood and surrounded by golden deer, and through the remembered raw terror came lestan's own fury.
was it riordan he struck, or the recollection of those killing hinds?
was it the man who bowed beneath his adrenaline or the blood which surrendered to his teeth?
it was only through the preternatural, surely, that lestan summoned from that killing well and smote riordan down upon the sand. if the man fought it was nothing against the sheer thundering hatred which pounded behind lestan's eyes, in his head, in his throat; for as he beat riordan savagely and tore pelt from skin and skin from muscle and muscle from bone, he was screaming, a high thin keen that cut out only when his voice shattered.
lestan sat staring off at the sea for — he did not know how long, but when he returned,
fur was caught in his teeth;
strips of flesh in his jaw;
and blood, a curtain of it, from forehead to nose to chin, tooth, jawline, shoulders, chest, forelimbs, sides;
trembling and trembling, and at last he vomited into the sand and staggered away from the remains of what had been riordan. the other man had contoured lestan's face with teeth, with claws torn open his shoulders, raised a wound on his neck. but it had not been enough.
a step that tremoured, then steadied as panic poured over him, and lestan forced his rubbery legs to send him back to her, to her, to sink down into new blood, into her blood, and the screaming started again, only this time he did not realize it was him once more, or that his tone this time was the shadow of glass shattering under a heavy wind.