My arms get cold in February air

Kesho Maisha · 03-06-2011, 02:38 AM

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WC: 327

By some horrible stroke of terrible luck, the Anathema woman had managed to force her body into Kesho's own, displacing his balance momentarily. As she shoved him, he fell. He lashed out, rage blinding and yellowed teeth aiming to spill any and all of her dirty, tainted blood. Itzal dared to try to hold the Hydra in place. The mutt managed it for a moment before Kesho's hind legs groped for the traitor's body and shoved him off with a deep, dangerous growl. He rolled onto his feet now, lunging for another attack on Itzal in these close quarters, froth bubbling out from his contorted mouth.

Any and all words were wasted on the Hydra; no threat threatened, no insult insulted. The Hydra saw nothing but that treasonist's disgusting face. Quickly he turned to face the moronic female who made a mockery of his own skills as she circled around him. With a sneer, he charged at her once again, thrusting his shoulder at her with all of his weight, head turning and mouth attempting to catch and rip at her flank. His muscles longed for this work, and he happily obliged, kicking off from the ground and distancing himself from them once again, standing firm, mouth open and panting as he kept those decaying canines on display for the pair of imbeciles.

Out of the white flurry charged Gabriel, Kesho's attention catching immediately and turning towards the Aquila, nearly surprised by his sudden appearance. Gabriel slowed to stand beside Kesho, who took notice of his posturing and raised hackles. Red eyes flitted back to the traitorous mongrel as the Aquila ordered: “Leave Inferni, now.”

Kesho's throat echoed with another guttural, threatening growl. If they did not obey, he was ready to take action. Adrenaline rushed through his aging veins, filling his limbs with new and invigorating life. He would defend this land with his life, and would not back down.

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