fugitixus
“I really wish you hadn’t said that” and he does. How is he going to go back to Brona with the blood of her husband on his hands? How will he look at her? They were married at some point- maybe still were- but he can’t just let her go back to him. Not in good conscious. Not after what he’s done.
Ethan Chandler hates bloodshed and the feeling of cracking bones in his bare hands isn’t one he likes to think about at all. It’s not a thing that he enjoys. At least he won’t just let himself enjoy it but he knows that this will be FUN.
There is no noise as the first blow hits and no build up to it either. Usually there is a sign that someone is about to strike but not him. The man was big, he’ll give him that, but Ethan’s fought bigger men he didn’t have any quarrel with. This one? This one would be a righteous kill and the wolf harkened to it because Brona was MATE and Brona was HIS and he’d have to die twice to see her taken away like that.
First hit is to the gut so the man doubles over, the punch packs much more then that of a normal human and would be- I imagine- like getting hit with a big bag of bricks. The second is to the head so that the other gets fuzzy and the last? Well the last is the worst…..the last is the least human bit of all.
Ethan’s claws close around his adams apple while his head leans close to grip jugular in his teeth. With his non-dominant hand Ethan holds the man steady then rips. Out comes the throat and blood pours everywhere and stains his entire front red.
It felt good.
For Brona Croft, the day began like every other. Ethan had woken first, as he was prone to do, and had gone downstairs to get them some breakfast. Brona took her time, waiting for him to come back-- Hoping they could eat breakfast in bed and pretend they lived in some sort of palace. Life wasn’t exactly perfect-- But Ethan Chandler did make things considerably brighter, After nearly an hour, Brona decided that Ethan wasn’t coming back to bring her breakfast in bed, and she should probably make sure he hadn’t gotten himself into any trouble. One would be surprised how much trouble that American could get himself into by early afternoon. The bar beneath the inn was usually deserted this early, so she had no qualms stepping out onto the little balcony that overlooked it in only her nightgown and dressing gown. However, nothing could prepare her for the sight she looked down upon. Blood. There was blood everywhere it seemed-- Staining the floor, swiped across the bar. And there was Ethan, blood staining his hands... His mouth. And almost immediately she recognized the bloody corpse of the man lying at his feet. “E-Ethan...” She said, soft voice the only thing heard in the silent bar, other than the gurgling of the dying man, “What... What ‘ave you done...?”