Cerulean Cape lost in a concrete jungle

@Moath backdated to 3rd Jan

The sylph frequently strayed from the island that had generously gifted her shelter, and though regret stirred in the pit of her belly, she found herself unwilling to remain upon the shores of undersea for more than a few days at a time. Nightmares left hot ash at her paws, singeing her claws and cracking the pads - in the dead of night she would rise, restless and irritable, a pounding against her chest and a shiver down her spine; such tormented dreams, that she simply couldn't stay on her island for long stretches of time without the desire to rip off her chains.

The cape provided her with a breath of frigid air in the midnight hours, crisp and fresh to soothe the burn of her throat. Faeryn's wispy ears cupped forward on her crown to absorb the whistle of seabirds, gaze trained on stars dotting the ebony sky, where even clouds failed to mask their shine - if only she could fight against these dreams in such a way, but her chin rested dispairingly on her paws, eyelids drifting close...

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There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

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He continued through the Wilds, a shimmering collosus of muscle and tattered memories. The blood of his latest kill had clung to the front of his muscled chest, a now hardening into a flaking shield of dark garnet. Little flakes of it fell off to trail the frigid winds of the wintery world, backdrafting from him both the salty grace of the unfrozen sea, and the coppery salinity of cold blooded murder. 

Trailing the coast, Moath had found the majority scent of a nearby pack, but one bright thread led from it. It was a strung out thread, one that was clearly sad, alone, and most importantly to the mindful but mindless psychopath, the thread was weak. It called to him, pulling him away from the majority, and led him to the minority, the singularity, that little thin thread that held his attention and pulled. He walked with this thread, and walked and walked, paying no attention to the horrid temperatures that froze most unwary travellers. The sun was nowhere to be found- It was night, the most deepest of hours, and Moath found his pace quickened. Heartbeat stead, and steps silent, his mind too, was quiet. He was on the thread, near the end, and once his pads hit rock an echoed the crash of that turbulent sea, Moath could see who had called to him.

They lay just ahead of him, and seemed to drift free of this world without his touch. He wanted to be the one who helped them, who stripped them from their thread and sent them away. He knew how to make others go away, and soon, this girl would join, just as the others had.
Thick limbs carried him forth...
quickly.

And ivories pulled free from their sheathes, revealing themselves still flecked with the spoil of his last meal. However unlike this woman's soon to be outcome, they had been unable to get away.And they had paid their life for it. 

A full one hundred and sixty five pounds landed atop the slender body of the young girl old enough to be killable, but young enough to be momentarily considered by the behemoth of a wolf. But the hesitation passed as those jaws unlocked their full width, and rammed directly to the back of a soft nape. A brutish shove forward, and soon a drag-

It wasn't long before that mesmerizingly beautiful blue grey head of hers was agonizingly close to those waters.

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And in silence, he waited.

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...Sharp needles pierced the skin of her nape, and a shuddering gasp fled her lips as she writhed in pain, the thin film of peace shred like nothing more than wet tissue; before she knew it she was being dragged, side knocking roughly against jagged rocks as her body was heaved toward the water's edge. A fiery burn shot up her spine, but she forced herself to breathe, in, out, in...

Out.

Driving with her hind legs, she kicked upward and drove her might into the belly of the beast - Faeryn might have seemed only a little fish, delicate and pretty, but in a flash she would show her fangs, the frantic scrabble of a pirahna before drifting into the swift grace of a hunting shark. If her attempt would fail (and it would, for his strength had lend him the upper hand), and her head was plunged into the water, she could hold air in her lungs - she was a seawolf, adept at swimming and navigating the waters. She might even have an advantage over him in the rumbling sea... so then she would let him drag her, ceasing her struggles but prepared to spring like a coil of wire the moment she was released into the waves.

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There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

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It was swift, his jowls salivating over the devilish taste of a new meal to be coming soon. It wasn’t time for him to eat yet, but it seemed his imunending urges to commit these murders were from an endless hunger that only killing could satisfy. His brain was excited, and this the red flecked slobber flowed. 

She struggled, pushing against the majority of his mountainous girth as a singular ant would a bear’s hind. He had momentum behind him, and all was in his basket. There was no stopping him from his monsterous goal. Her struggle was in vain, or so he thought, as he considered himself triumphant. 

Victorious, even, as he pushed hard enough to force her head beneath the  freezing bay’s liquid grasp.

---

 

And in silence, he waited.

---

She allowed her body to go limp as her head was pushed with mighty force beneath the shivering water's surface, appearing to liquidify herself and drift underneath miniscule rivulets of blue - she waited, lungs burning but breath held carefully in her chest, until she was certain he was revelling in the success of a new kill. Only then did she swing herself up, feeling a sting in her eyes as the saltwater found purchase against her unprotected gaze, and snapped her jaws to release the grip of the monster.

She wasn't about to be murdered in her home.

Whether Faeryn's teeth did or did not sink beneath the black pelt of the other mattered not - when his hold on her had released, the sylph swam deeper out into the bay, swift and with clear purpose; she moved as a born sea creature herself, navigating the waves with fish-like ease, adept at keeping herself afloat. He'd not be able to catch her here, for her legs were treading through water with a greater skill than she might have walked upon land.

---

 

There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...

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He had her.

She had softened as a Drowned One would, but her twitches had not come before that. Most Drowned Ones twitched before they fell silent. Yet this one had not. Perhaps she was different? As he knew well he should have broken her spine to ensure she could not fight back, he rushed himself, and in his folly, he thought she would be dead’s 

But she was NOT. She worked free from loosened grip as an eel would, slithering beneath dark waters. He had not been fast enough- he was only a man. But she was ready. Out of those eclipsed waters, the Prey surged up with vindictive jaws, and smeared a stinging vengeance over his maw. Her knifelike fangs worked well through dark flesh, and efficiently they cut through as the siren retreated back into the waters after her salty kiss. 

The wound stung, and while Moath did not react to the pain, as the brute could not recognize hurt, he felt the blood slide and drip from his tattered mouth. 
She had gotten him, and lost him. 
But he would not forget her. 
He would come back for her, one day...

And next time, she wouldn’t be able to get away.


Turning to venture back home, the gigantuan shuffled through the cavern and back out into the open world, returning through the Wilds a victimless killer, for once.

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And in silence, he waited.

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