ooc:
When red was the only color her eyes could see, she was left to trust in what she could feel beneath her claws. The trickle of blood and the pulse of life as it continued to course through its capture vein. Her grip was unrelenting even as his form collapsed with her still clinging to her prize under the vice of constricting gloves. She could feel the pressure, feel his life literally within the palm of her hand and she felt no resistance from him. No twitch of his muscle in defiance nor the growl of anger to overpower her own reverberating octave. Silent and still; the epitome of submission.
…and it angered her to see it. “Is that it!?!” she bellowed loud enough to disturb their avian spectators in the trees. Oh yes, they had been watching and like the silent overseers they thought better than to intervene with the conflicts of wolves were claws and teeth were bared. “Is that really if for you!” It was too ludicrous of a notion to accept that he would simply give up when in front of the whole pack he had a mouth and a mind to defy her. “You conflict me at the turn of my ascension then you claim I am not fit for you to submit to. I am not the Alpha you would follow… I am not the mate that you knew. WHAT AM I TO YOU!?!” Her claws made to press harder onto her prizes and truly drive in the pain she was forced to endure… all of it. But her claws inversed their desired actions and the harder she pressed the more they loosened until they grasped nothing but air.
But the absence of something tangible in the palms was startling and like a pup seeking its security, her claws dove into her wild locks, holding fast with all her remaining strength as her cries of rage turned to broken octaves of pain. “I have done everything right. I have done what my Shepard would do…. I have followed his teachings and prayed to the ancestors for guidance but nothing has come for it…”