#sharpclaaw

𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘯    𝘪𝘴    𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯    𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯    𝘩𝘦𝘳    𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴,     no    evidence    of    a    means    to    withhold    her    truth    from    him.    (    and    she    dares    not    peer    before    his    surface,    what    lies    beneath    may    be    too    vile    for    her    to    suffer    )    never    does    she    break    his    gaze.    any    attempts    at    tearing    free    or    evading    his    grip    are    whimsical    fantasies    at    best    ---    she    knows    that    from    experience    ----    yet    still,    still    she    tries.    writhing    and    sneering    down    at    him,    vitriol    near    dripping    from    her    gaze    alone.    though    he    has    the    upper    hand,    her    gaze    reflects    nothing    but    disgust.    no    sense    of    fear    evident    or    permitted    upon    her    features.

❝   Oh BULL-FUCKIN-SHIT ! You KNOW you’re more than capable of defending yourself, or finding ways to avoid him entirely. 

– Kxo vusk aj 0ei zijk ted’k nudk ke rosuijo 0ei’ho mut udt 0ei cabo ke kubo 0eih udwoh eik ed oloh0edo uheidt 0ei, hukxoh kxud cok ud0edo wok olod ud adsx scejoh ke 0ei r0 zijk visbadw kucbadw ke kxom! – 

You push everyone away, you push ME away, Scales! You literally almost got yourself KILLED rather than just TALKING TO ME! You throw big tantrums, you take things just because you can, and you hurt people so you feel better about yourself. You’re a BRAT 

                       – u raw udwh0 rhuk! – 

That’s all you are. And for some reason that escapes me I still love you –

je te ij rekx u vuleh udt zijk kxaj edso jxen mo 0ei sud ro meho kxud zijk u raw, rhikajx ujjxeco.

❝   NO ! – You don’t have to fight him, please he’s–he’s my dad, Scales. Don’t hurt him! If you hurt him I’ll –  ❞

His breath catches and he holds it there for a moment try to think about what to say, what could he possibly use to threaten him with? What could he possibly do to cause him such distress to force him to remain passive? And then it hits him, the only option he has. It feels rotten to do this, to talk to him like this, even if he was cruel, Coyote still didn’t feel right about using this weakness to force his hand. Exhaling and speaking in a more serious tone he explains.

❝   Scales, If you hurt him I am .  .  . n – not going to come back and we’re .  .  . whatever we were is done. Wolf is family to me, and – and he’s not a fleabag don’t call him that! He’s just trying to protect me, which is probably .  .  . probably a good thing. You’re – You hurt me! You hurt me a lot before we were closer, a-and you still do sometimes! You hit me if I argued with you, you hit me if I told you the truth, and you hit me if I lied and I took it because I knew I could handle it – I knew I could take it and I wanted to believe that if I got past all of it you’d be better but .  .  . But that’s not fair! it’s not fair and it isn’t right. 

I love you more than I can express, and I want you to be better but .  .  . You hurt me and you hurt a lot of other people too, but despite it all I still care about you. I know you can be good, I know you could be better and I want to help you and everyone there on that planet – but if you hurt him – if you kill my father –   ❞

There’s a very different look on his face now, as if he’s considering the idea of having to live in that reality. The reality of Wolf being dead, and Scales dragging him back to Sauria. There’s disgust on his face, pain, and finally anger. But not just some distrust and upset that Coyote has shown before, no, there’s hatred in his eye. Then comes the curl of his lips back into an ugly snarl as a grown rumbles in the back of his throat.

           * mistletoe meme.    /    accepting.

He’s been staring at Scales the entire time they’ve been here around the fire, bright golden eye filled with intrigue as he watches him move and speak. But there’s something else there too, Coyote is sure it’s obvious. The way his tail wags slowly behind him when the general looks at him directly, how his own gaze darts away when he takes note, the flustered warm smile that curls onto his face when he sees him. Yes, it’s painfully obvious by the way his own heart thumps in his chest, he’s got it bad. Over the months Coyote has lived here with him, he will admit it hasn’t been easy, not by a long shot, and getting along with Scales can be near impossible some days. But he found himself enamored by him, something kept drawing him close like a moth to a flame. Yet he fluttered just outside the General’s reach, both due to his own timid nature and because getting too close meant vulnerability, and he knows that being able to lure that out of Scales was difficult, to say the least. Every time he thought he was making progress Scales pushed him away again, but his kindness knew no bounds, or perhaps it was his stupidity. Perhaps Scales’ own mother would agree to the latter.

Yet there they were, just the two of them, having shared stories and laughed all night. Perhaps it was just the booze they had, or the fire, but his body felt warm and yet he still leaned in closer to him as he speaks. His gaze lingers, the day had been a show of surprising kindness as the general seemed to have had the men decorate the camp a bit for Christmas, which to Coyote’s knowledge was something he had only known about from mentioning in passing about Cornerian holidays. It was sweet to know he did listen, and that he did care more than he let on. Truthfully he hadn’t expected anything but appreciated it more than he could express. He was so caught up watching those lips, and his bright eyes, he hadn’t realized Scales wasn’t talking anymore. And there hung the silence between them, save for the way his heart beat in his chest, and the crackle of the fire. But this time, the silence didn’t frighten him, he didn’t feel the need to fill it.

It seemed effortless, like second nature, the way his arms wrap around the other’s neck when he’s pulled into a fervent kiss. And he leans in fully accepting it, yearning for it. He can feel his heart racing, threatening to beat out of his chest as he’s tugged close, his chest now flush with the general’s own. By the time the kiss is broken he’s breathing softly and slowly, his eye flutters open as he leans back a bit. Coyote’s head feels fuzzy, but in a way he couldn’t quite place, all he knew was that he didn’t want this to end just yet.

            * non-verbal venting.    /    accepting.           13. HITTING AN INANIMATE OBJECT OVER AND OVER.

A soft gasp from behind the dinosaur, hand hovering over his mouth.

❝   Oh no, you shouldn’t –  ❞

He squeaks out meekly after a few moments, mostly to himself, there’s concern written on his face, in his gentle but nervous tone. Ears are folded back against his head as he timidly steps out of the brush, pushing a large bit of vegetation out of his way as he comes closer, sliding down the small hill with ease. Brows are knitted together as he keeps his distance, eye darting to the hooked extension every now and then as he shrinks in on himself. Tail sways before slowly curling around him, a submissive gesture to the tyrant, then a hand is offered out, palm open.

❝   S – Sorry sir, please forgive me for my intrusion. It’s just I .  .  . worry you may hurt yourself. May I see your hand? Just to make sure it’s not injured?  ❞

Carefully he takes his large hand into his own and checks his over with a much more gentle demeanor, fingers carefully checking over the calloused clawed skin on either side and gently grazing over the skin. He seemed fine but he still gently rubs at the palm with both hands, carefully massaging it as he seemed rather tense. After all, he was apparently rather good at it, and perhaps the reptile could use something to help soothe him.

❝   If you don’t mind me asking sir, ah, are you training, or .  .  . did something happen?  ❞