07-04-2009, 06:18 PM
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I intended for Gabriel to go into a frenzy, which would turn him basically into a chainsaw with teeth. Maybe once he does that Corvus can be all ">:|" and take off? Gabriel could lose him in the rain/whatever? That way neither of them are super roughed up?
Between the blows and the exchange of fur and blood, there was tactic and impulse. The pied wolf fought with the detachment that Gabriel himself valued in combat. He was, however, losing himself. Rushing through his ears was the singular sound of his own blood, and it deafened everything—the wounds, the wind, the peculiar silence that his opponent fought with. Amber eyes remained fixed on the pools of black, shark’s eyes, snake eyes, and he knew that this wolf was truly a demon.
Something snapped in his consciousness, as suddenly as breaking glass. Gabriel was not aware of the rising storm, or the change in the air. Electricity crackled through the sky. A bolt of lightning broke across the ebony-indigo storm clouds. None of this did Gabriel see. His singular focus was the pied wolf, even that vision was turning hazy. Their battle might have gone on for five or ten minutes before he was aware of the stranger’s presence fading. Blindly, Gabriel charged through the trees, finding nothing but fading scents and a mix-match trail that the rain was quickly erasing. The amount of water was staggering—Gabriel could not see but one foot in-front of him, and his own coat was soaking up the water desperately.
Furious, bruised, bleeding, the Aquila snarled and staggered through the sheets of water. He had not managed to kill the beast. Still, he had done something. Eventually, the doggish male found a semi-dry overhang and rested there, staring ahead into the pouring rain. He felt nothing. That, perhaps, was the most peculiar thing of all.
Between the blows and the exchange of fur and blood, there was tactic and impulse. The pied wolf fought with the detachment that Gabriel himself valued in combat. He was, however, losing himself. Rushing through his ears was the singular sound of his own blood, and it deafened everything—the wounds, the wind, the peculiar silence that his opponent fought with. Amber eyes remained fixed on the pools of black, shark’s eyes, snake eyes, and he knew that this wolf was truly a demon.
Something snapped in his consciousness, as suddenly as breaking glass. Gabriel was not aware of the rising storm, or the change in the air. Electricity crackled through the sky. A bolt of lightning broke across the ebony-indigo storm clouds. None of this did Gabriel see. His singular focus was the pied wolf, even that vision was turning hazy. Their battle might have gone on for five or ten minutes before he was aware of the stranger’s presence fading. Blindly, Gabriel charged through the trees, finding nothing but fading scents and a mix-match trail that the rain was quickly erasing. The amount of water was staggering—Gabriel could not see but one foot in-front of him, and his own coat was soaking up the water desperately.
Furious, bruised, bleeding, the Aquila snarled and staggered through the sheets of water. He had not managed to kill the beast. Still, he had done something. Eventually, the doggish male found a semi-dry overhang and rested there, staring ahead into the pouring rain. He felt nothing. That, perhaps, was the most peculiar thing of all.