there has always been a gnawing – consistent, clawing, aching. something buried deep within the chest, the mind; that ache to free oneself from conscious restraints and allow desire and instinct to guide every step. a fury set forth of brandished claw and fang, but it was more than just simple inner, sleeping rage. this is what he was, has always been. heard again and again, different iterations finally brought to reality.
widened eyes of the public view looked on. hands held over gapping mouths, stumbling, awkward steps backward… some even running. hiding those more vulnerable and ushering away the weak. those images of retreat only triggered something more. down did the miqo’te crouch, armored hands and feet digging against the ground beneath – ready to kick off, to sprint, to chase.
this is what they’ve seen… this is what they’ve always known…
through parting fangs does the miqo’te – no, the beast, emit a gargled excuse for a sound. some might call it a growl, if one were to put a name to it. the sound didn’t end there, another followed soon after; louder, wanting. but he had yet to spring forward – yet to take his hunt to the prey left scattered before him, for a shadow seized his attention first.
something flowy and familiar in its darkened appearance. something that had hair and fur standing where it could; bristling in alarm… but he could not recall why. would it matter if he did? if the body was afraid then that which appeared must be worth something; something more. a challenge, came the thought, and that brought the beast to a partial rise.
they offered a challenge, a worthy hunt… he wanted it. he wanted it! another sound, a roar, and the ascian had won his attention. // @shadowbringcr
She watches the festivities from a distance, undisturbed and unnoticed. Nobody would take a second look at her garments in this environs, where everyone is dressed as scares and other creatures of the night. But ah, the greatest terror has always been the ones you never realize ‘till it was too late.
It was the growl that pulls her gaze away to the man who has her in his sights. But ah, this was no man, was it? Not with the wild noises that come in his mouth, radiating none an ilm of humane intent. Gone was any glimpse of the warrior she has met before in that haunted island - in its place a wild beast with all signs of reason dispelled into the void. “You look like a sorry sight…But ah, you can’t understand what I am saying, do you?”
Chaos descends upon the crowd once they register him as genuine danger, and the wise have used her as a proper distraction. Where this be the Lycelle of old, she would take upon the role with no hesitation - she would try to quell this beast. But all the Ascian sees is opportunity. For such is their element, and such is their work.
A wave of her hand, and a dark fog descends upon the area, engulfing everyone in sight. There shall be no escape for anyone here - not from this darkness, and not from the monster that now traverses among them. The Ascian chuckles, her red glyph gleaming before she too disappears in the shadows. She will enjoy using her newfound plaything.
“Come and claim your prey.”
