#potemama

Though he took it and looked it over, he soon offered it back to her with a nonchalant shrug.

Pulse raced, beating in fingertips that trailed over pale, unmarred skin.  He caught her throat at the base of his thumb, fingers resting along the side of her neck.  Lips, brushing hers, pulled into a crooked smile.

His chest heaved with each heavy breath, eyes wild as the wolfish grin contorting his expression into one of hungry glee.  Bruising grip tightened further, crushing windpipe with a harsh crack of the woman’s skull against the stone wall behind her.  Teeth sharpened by the moon above punctured the flesh of her lower lip as easily as the blade held in his hand did the flesh of her abdomen.

Body lurching forward, he pinned the woman to uneven stone and kissed torn lips as he sawed upwards, serrated edge of his dagger tearing a jagged gash from belly to breast.  A wheezed half laugh, an expulsion of excited energy, spilled against the woman’s teeth as she fell limp.  The bosmer released the further paling body, his knife pulled from her as she collapsed.  

Though the moon didn’t hang quite full in the skies, what he would feel in two days time still struck.  Thick drool pooled over his tongue, blade slick with blood slipping from loosened grip to clatter to cobblestones below.  A violent shiver jolted up his spine and he dropped, unflinching even as knees hit stone.  

No paws, clawed and vicious, rested on either side of the freshly slaughtered.  No snout, skeletal or otherwise, dug into the injury inflicted by polished steel.  Instead bosmeri hands, red as the street around, widened the wound to expose organs that only a moment prior threatened to spill.  A howl rising was silenced by acrid blood and mouthfuls of a meal, ripped away by teeth, and hungrily gulped down.

Even without the body he’d grown used to, without the jaws of a wolf, he made swift work of his kill.  Satiated, the mer sat back on heels, wiping his face with a sleeve so bloodied it did no good.  Unconcerned, he grabbed the drying dagger to his side and rose, eyes drifting to the smaller street parallel to the one he’d found the woman on.  With the slightest glance over his shoulder he walked, leaving his mess for someone else to find, and slipped away into Solitude’s dark back alleys.