Cerulean Cape salt tracing

feel free to give him some dings back!

crowell took the hit with a snarl, blood spraying hot from his shoulder where hex had sunk in. the pirate’s grip held fast as hex slipped beneath him, scrambling for the edge like some writhing eel. teeth bared, froth at his lips. nah, nah, crowell hissed through clenched jaws, pressing all his weight down. ye ain’t slitherin’ out now, lad.
he slams a foreleg across the boy’s spine, driving him flatter. leaned in, pressed down, using his whole filthy weight to pin the younger pirate against the edge. his voice grew ragged, venom-spit and flame.
with a savage heave, he twists, trying to shove the younger pirate off the cliffside with a brutal thrust of his chest and shoulder.