01-09-2010, 01:14 AM
OOC: Well...you began in secui, which is why I had him shift down. However, given that the good Prince has some powers for me to abuse, that can be easily remedied =P
The claws raked against his side, and white, gleaming tracks appeared against his jet black fur. He rounded on side-stepping werewolf, and leapt up to him, black fangs snapping for his shoulder as his crescent-moon claws dug for purchase into his orange coat. His jaws snapped for Ty's flesh, but even as they did so, impossibly, his voice flowed like warm, fragrant water into the young wolf's ears.
"I like your spirit, traveler, your beating heart, and your words like seeking daggers at the joints of my armor." With that, his thumbless paws changed into grabbing hands, and his legs cracked like the sound of breaking ice as they changed into were-form, pushing him up to his full height, his powerful grip lifting Ty into the air as he surged skyward. The Prince slammed his foe down into the permafrost, his obscene smile accented by the smell of gathering dew. His inverted eyes grew wild then, betraying the rush that he felt with the slow drip of his starlit blood and the smell of broken skin by his claws. He felt like he were living again. Ty's awareness of the smells and sights and sounds of violence were being brought to him, wrenched from the dreamer's mind, and he could experience them all again. What was so close to life as fighting to defend it? Nothing...and that was the aim of this entire work, to reclaim the vitality of the living again, to feel the flow of blood through his veins, long since stymied. To feel the raw burn of cold night air in warm lungs. Such sensations long since lost could be reclaimed through the works of the Weaver. She could drink the brew, he would live it himself! He rose up to stand above Ty, towering a half foot taller than his enemy.
"If you want mine," he purred, "Strain hard. I am not convinced your body is stronger than mine." His voice fell to a serpent's whisper. "Show me!" The light of his eyes gleamed brighter, and the claws of his toes dug into a patch of frozen earth. Now he was on solid ground and his foe was on ice. He was ready for the taste of blood. He was ready to feel the warmth of a body lain open. Let Ty Nasphrite come, and let him bring life back into these ancient bones that have long forgotten it.
The claws raked against his side, and white, gleaming tracks appeared against his jet black fur. He rounded on side-stepping werewolf, and leapt up to him, black fangs snapping for his shoulder as his crescent-moon claws dug for purchase into his orange coat. His jaws snapped for Ty's flesh, but even as they did so, impossibly, his voice flowed like warm, fragrant water into the young wolf's ears.
"I like your spirit, traveler, your beating heart, and your words like seeking daggers at the joints of my armor." With that, his thumbless paws changed into grabbing hands, and his legs cracked like the sound of breaking ice as they changed into were-form, pushing him up to his full height, his powerful grip lifting Ty into the air as he surged skyward. The Prince slammed his foe down into the permafrost, his obscene smile accented by the smell of gathering dew. His inverted eyes grew wild then, betraying the rush that he felt with the slow drip of his starlit blood and the smell of broken skin by his claws. He felt like he were living again. Ty's awareness of the smells and sights and sounds of violence were being brought to him, wrenched from the dreamer's mind, and he could experience them all again. What was so close to life as fighting to defend it? Nothing...and that was the aim of this entire work, to reclaim the vitality of the living again, to feel the flow of blood through his veins, long since stymied. To feel the raw burn of cold night air in warm lungs. Such sensations long since lost could be reclaimed through the works of the Weaver. She could drink the brew, he would live it himself! He rose up to stand above Ty, towering a half foot taller than his enemy.
"If you want mine," he purred, "Strain hard. I am not convinced your body is stronger than mine." His voice fell to a serpent's whisper. "Show me!" The light of his eyes gleamed brighter, and the claws of his toes dug into a patch of frozen earth. Now he was on solid ground and his foe was on ice. He was ready for the taste of blood. He was ready to feel the warmth of a body lain open. Let Ty Nasphrite come, and let him bring life back into these ancient bones that have long forgotten it.