Wild Berry Meadow [m] some gin and juice

death bellows, but he was busy dancing. away he romped through the thistles and through the brush — the smile beckoning, laced like a fatal drug.

thorn caught to his skin as he gave a spin, the sight of teeth enveloping his gaze in a smearing of stained yolk. a yelp when fangs met the tender flesh of his ribcage, ears flat though the smile never waned. he stumbled a pace backwards before slouching to his hind in a belly-laugh rage. 

the molten gold in his gaze admired the sight of crimson blemished on the man's pale lips. he thought the grim reaper handsome — he thought how he'd like to lick him clean. 

but he made no pass at the man. the laugh simmered in his throat as he awaited the next strike to land, eyes drifting from foreign lips to steely eyes once more. 

"feels nice, doesn't it?" pain was enjoyable — he need only admit it aloud.