Kintla Flatlands guns for hands

*cuts tension with knife*

[size=medium]"sell your soul not your whole self"[/size]

[size=small]In the Ostrega's mind there was only two ways this encounter could end.
She could be killed, or she could break character, whichever happened first -- but ultimately, whatever outcome resulted, was entirely up to her. Even if it were his teeth which ended up lined with red, or his jaws which ended up suffocating the life out of her, he would not claim responsability for his acts.
Because in his mind, it was her who asked for her death -- even if it had been through simple joking words, she had placed no resistance when he suggested she were his first kill.
She wanted to help with his debut as a murderer, and for that Ciervo was glad.

With an unceremonious growl that blew the remaining hairs he had pulled out from his lips, the Ostrega narrowed his eyes as he again pulled his snarling muzzle dangerously closer to her still exposed throat. "Do you want to die?" he breathed through low snarls that began to grow louder by the second.

While she worried of cheating her mate, he only thought of the dimming options she had to cheat his unmerciful jaws.
There were few ways one could cheat death, but there were even less ways one could cheat Ciervo.
He was a hustler, a dirty lier, but most of all a shameless sinner.

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