Sheepeater Cliff i will storm the gods

a tall woman, cloaked mostly in a velveteen ebony catches ridgeback's eye and though he does not lift his bloodied muzzle from his meal, his gaze watches her approach; shoulders shifting subtly into a posture that is both defensive and possessive. her question only tightens the taunt sinew beneath his steel blue-grey shoulders despite that her posture is amiable; friendly even. immediately at odds with how he wants to perceive her words. a chunk of meat is torn from his meal and chewed before it is swallowed and his salmon pink tongue draws across his jowls to collect bits of flesh and blood — though the action ends up smearing the latter.

when prey falls from the sky like a gift from the gods, how can i possibly refuse? he jests lightly with a twitch of his lips before he lowers his muzzle and roots about for a rib bone which he grasps betwixt his teeth. the sound of it cracking beneath the pressure he applies is muffled and when he withdraws his muzzle from the beasts' flank he worries the bone, suckling the morrow from within before he drops it at his paws.

that was pretty impressive.

a praise he does not feel he deserved when so very easily he could've been upon the receiving end of that knife sharp beak or dagger deadly talons. it was injured. he points out simply, before taking another chunk of meat from his quarry; the only reason, likely, he still has all of his face.