Cont from X with @skxrbrand
His hackles raise. No. No. Do not start this shit, just FIGHT-
“No, no they have not. But why would you care, anyways? Axe in hand, I mean it.” The rat snaps, one red eye twitches, heart pounding, salivating. He adjusts his stance, ready to lunge.
There’s a pain in him, physically, the ache and twist that rage brought him, and another. His hips and thighs hurt, he was over and under stimulated all at once, he would reek like a daemonette with the mix of Jaz Mahnn’s lingering musk and perfume, and the rodent’s own blazing beacon of feminine pheromones. And need.
And it was making him very agitated indeed.
He was particularly sensitive to the bloodthirster’s presence, more specifically his voice, and had resolved to simply eliminate the trigger of agony, and burn himself out in the process. Catharsis was a form of relief after all.
His vision is splintered, locked onto his adversary, focusing on his nose, throat, eyes, ears, abdomen, wings, and creases of joints or tendons…
