—MORE TEETH AND CLAWS.

#𝙺𝚄𝚁𝙹𝙰𝙺𝚂.  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐣𝐚𝐤.  𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑛, 𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑, 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓.  original character & lore omitted to be discovered through interaction. a study in: coming from nothing;  baring your teeth;  greed and survival going hand in hand;  being unknown;  death;  rebirth;  𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘.

doc + carrd. opens.  prompts.

𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜. analyticallyminded. demonstigma. fangmother. halfsovl. hvndredstories. italianexotiicbeauty. learningtodie. miidnighters. monenblogi. mvnces. saturnmused / soldatassass1n. unspokcn. worldsokayestdad.

𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒎𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒍𝒊𝒏. 💋 ...continue.

A sharp, shooting pain bursts at his right shoulder. Any further strain and he's certain it'd be popped right out of place, his teeth bared, clenched with the wince. His mouth soon twists and it's something more like glee, like he's just been told some horrid little joke, the sort one might feel wicked for laughing at.

Maybe this is a statement, he thinks, because it could be; Decker could dislocate his shoulder right now, if he wanted, incapacitate him, leave him with just his left arm: without anything that has him even marginally close to evenly matched with this beast.

It still makes him want to wrench free, no matter the sickening pop he might hear with it; he's cornered, but he doesn't feel entirely mindless. Though he finds he still feels some kind of desperate.

He feels animal in a different way: he wants to try to rend Decker apart, and he wants the beast to do the same.

Kurjak turns his head without the best vantage point to get a look at the beast over his shoulder. It's low, when he speaks, like they're sharing an intimate moment. It's quiet, just for them.

her fingers press bruisingly into his jaw. down to the bone, kurjak thinks, far more cognizant of that in itself for a moment than her silent command. he gives only a halfhearted try at shaking his head, faintly testing her grasp, and possibly in part to coax her to tighten it further. even if it's starting to feel like if he tries to turn his head too suddenly he'd inadvertently dislocate his jaw in her hand.

he makes a soft, brief little hm when her grip predictably doesn't give, and a grin cuts across his mouth, toothy and glinting. it doesn't suit him.

a beat of silence; he cants his head to one side, rolls his right wrist. there's a very light clink in the mechanisms when he does so. it's blink-and-you-miss-it, but a light catch happens there, too, and it mirrors a sort of hypermobility, like a joint popping beyond its range in motion; in this case, something is misaligned. he knows when he took the damage.

"to ascertain," he explains curtly, and he concentrates with a crease of focus in his brow, experimentally flexing that hand and those fingers, scrutinizing the familiar faint whir of them. to make sure they've well and truly gone.

a sidelong glance in fetch's direction. he looks decidedly put off by the question.