this is the reckoning
The quick anthem of crashing hooves and spiraling chaos didn’t reach him. They couldn’t pierce through the rapid senses of the predator, of the hound, registering and measuring within. It was all wilderness in his gaze, a token savagery brought on years and lifetimes ago, embedded deep in his blood, and now uncoiling, unraveling, within an instance. They could have all been miles away, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
The deer flailed beneath him, and he swiftly, quickly, went for the throat. An instinctual, inherent thing, for his jaws to lock over its neck and sink down, to listen to bones breaking, for ivories to clench, and then waiting, waiting, waiting for the creature to take its final breath. Even in its blinded, prey panic, he wouldn’t let go – ruthless in this form, in memories of what he’d once been.
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Deimos attempts to kill the deer.
The deer flailed beneath him, and he swiftly, quickly, went for the throat. An instinctual, inherent thing, for his jaws to lock over its neck and sink down, to listen to bones breaking, for ivories to clench, and then waiting, waiting, waiting for the creature to take its final breath. Even in its blinded, prey panic, he wouldn’t let go – ruthless in this form, in memories of what he’d once been.
--
Deimos attempts to kill the deer.
DEIMOS
