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>n< Shortening for the battle—maybe sometime in the fight he can see Onus’ eyes? Only if you want that to happen though, ^=^
Those cruel jaws split in a sneer, those beautiful and terrible features maniacal as those black eyes grew wide with his hunger for that blood. It was the blood of that creature that was so strangely satisfying. He would drink from him again, and drain him when he was dead. Like some monster from a Dream—from her Dream—he engaged with this masked coyote. The brute let out a snarl that distorted the air with its blackness. Pain. Only with this coyote had he felt it. And the coyote would pay for it. He was already in debt for having taken his daughter—this extra payment that the brute would extract would be easily taken. As the coyote was thrown from behind him, the claws tore at his flesh and the jaws tore at his neck. Onus twisted in the air with a skill to match the Korean. Ripping his teeth into his flesh, spilling his blood. There was a mania that arose with the pied brute, as that snarl faded into that grating laughter.
His hands reached about the coyote’s form, bringing him closer as he pushed them up against the wall. His own maw, like the maw of a hungry beast, moved against the coyote’s neck. His jaws sought the old and familiar wound where he had taken the flesh and discarded it the rain. Just as that night, it rained now, a morbid cycle of time’s nature. He reopened the wound, tearing it almost delicately, as if sampling a meal, before he slid over to shoulder, clamping down upon the bone. His nose was beneath the coat as he attempted to tear it open. But a successful attack would require the coyote to be pinned completely between the crow wolf and the wall. The Korean did not linger there for long, brought his head suddenly and viscously upon the coyote’s head, seeking, as he had with the dead Dahlian, to bare open the flesh of the neck, those fragile and integral rivers of blood set lose.