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Well, the initial point of this thread/most of Corvus’ threads are supposed to be for him to take a hit at someone, so does Leroy want to be that someone? And of course it’s up to you if you do and how much damage etc. Also, a bit of powerplay, but a realistic one; let me know if you want it changed, Syd, ^=^;;
500+
The thing’s effort to mirror him was amusing. Her words were simply...nothing. They were nothing to him and meant nothing to him; she had mastered nothing and could not master him. Her pathetic attempts at the mastery of words fell ineffectively upon his ears, standing erect atop that head like two horns of the netherworlds. And still he was unmoved, sitting there as if truly hearing nothing. That fierce, empty gaze simply locked itself upon the thing’s face. That flat, fathomless gaze simply bore into the place where the eyes would be. And yet they saw nothing. It was a strange emptiness, a hollow void that did not seek to be filled, for that emptiness was filled with that substanceless Dark. And it had a sound. Just as Cwmfen could hear the song of souls calling to her, this crow wolf, too, had a sound. It was the hollow sucking of air threw the mouth of a dark cave that drew in the warmth and light into it, snuffing it and killing it with a silent, patient efficiency.
And then it was moving. It was moving towards him as if succumbing to that Darkness. The pied brute responded with nothing, seeing nothing even when she released the hold of the cloth that bound her eyes. Those eyes held nothing alluring. Those eyes and that soul were dead to him as all souls were, requiring only his jaws to crush it into oblivion. Black shadows that had gathered about him, tugging at his fur with weak fingers, sighed. They sighed as the wind moved through, whispering and whining through the tops of trees. The trees swayed as did the grass. But the black crow wolf did not sway. He did not move. The white and black hackles responded to that breath, moving as the mist of a cold, damp night. And that damp could penetrate the warmth and seek out the life of the bones. Perhaps he could have a taste as well...?
A quiet grating shuddered through his form as those black lips parted for his merciless laugher. She was close now, kneeling at his feet before him as if in submission. That sneer tugged at the corners of his lips as it finally ceased to move, its nose near to his own. He could smell its stink. He exhaled his own scentless air as if to reject the thing, but his mind was only filled with his laughter. That laughter dripped in mockery. Lured in like a deer fooled by what it saw and smelled, unable to feel and trust that feeling. A warning. It was a mere moment given. The silence that had filled that crow wolf’s ears finally fell away. Abruptly, those cruel jaws had parted releasing a black snarl. His movements were swift, smooth and intangible like quicksilver. He moved through the air with such celerity that the air had but to follow, whistling in his wake. The bone white of those cruel jaws were hungering for that life pulsing beneath that coat.