:: Them Boys Light Up, Light Up, Light Up ::124.170.233.220Posted On August 26, 2014 at 4:58 AM by Tobias


Birdie is near utterly forgotten in this moment as he proceeds to tear down the street after the shrieking preacher, the boys desire fuelled entirely by his predatory need to chase anything that runs and flaps in any sort of hysterical manner, the delightful scent of fear and panic very near bleeding from the other man’s pores until it is near a tangible taste within the air. The WereLeopard is significantly faster than his prey in this moment, even within his human form those long limbs allow for an easy, swift stride that readily eats away at the ground, the man almost within reach before the boy is very near jerked to a halt- Birdie’s hand suddenly seizing his arm, wrenching the disbelieved deviant backwards. For a moment he moves to appear merely stunned, unable to work out how his motion has been so abruptly halted, dark eyes narrowing to glare towards the woman in clear reproach. His objection towards her lasts only so long as it takes the sprinklers to suddenly erupt upward in several fountains of water that see the young man yelp like a scolded dog hurriedly attempting to scramble away from the grass that dared to assault him, dark eyes flicking rapidly upward and towards the closing window and the retreating elderly woman. He dislikes water, finds even the faintest touches of the liquid to be disdainful, remaining warily out of the waters reach as he continues to glower, the preacher near forgotten now as he moves to suddenly reach forward, snapping the sprinkler head from atop the lawn before proceeding to hurl it at speed through the woman’s window. Evidently, it would seem, he is content to punish the woman for ever having turned them on at all- the man hurriedly shaking what remains of the water from himself.

Birdie moving to grasp him however sees his attention shift once more, the woman suddenly moving to step in front of him, the preacher having seemingly returned once more as the boys own instincts readily lift, chocolate hued eyes landing suddenly upon the man as he speaks, his words holding no meaning to the deviant, the boy moving to push past Birdie before the sudden explosion of sound sees him freeze. He has seen guns before, felt the sting of a bullet and as such his mind reacts accordingly to that which it knows, the young man freezing in place, unaware of the injured woman beside him as he seems to wait for the onslaught of pain he has learned will follow- when it doesn’t come however, those dark eyes merely darken once more, Birdies fingers digging into the flesh of his arm. For a moment he simply moves to look towards her, eyes at last seeming to settle upon her shoulder and the blood that blossoms so readily there, eyes flicking from her wound to the man and back again as a hiss of sorts rises within his throat. Birdie is not pack, at least, not to his knowledge and as such perhaps his desire to protect her- as he does his own is not so well ingrained and yet…he enjoys the woman, desires her company, has spent far more than one night sleeping beside her and as such some part within himself is given to find disdain in her being injured. She is his thing, just for him, he is sure and another man given to harm her sees those protective instincts flare all the same.

Her words are very near ignored in this moment, the wail of police sirens grating against him, tongue brushing the points of his teeth as they simply elongate, human teeth shifted into his leopard weaponry, fingernails peeled back as claws take their place once more. The click and shift of the gun the Hunter still holds assures the man has reloaded, the weapon lifted to take aim once more, this time seeking Tobias himself and yet the gun is barely given to lift beyond the Hunter’s hip before a look of utter confusion seems to cross the older man’s features, the gun fired abruptly off into the street as the man seems so utterly lost, ensnared within Tobias’ power in this moment as the young man simply grins. White teeth flash so menacingly within the gloom, the confused preacher entirely at his mercy within this moment as Tobias strides forward- closing the distance between them now as his fingers grasp the man’s shirt, pulling him closer, the preacher seemingly unable to focus, panicked confusion tainting each line within his frame as the WereLeopard so suddenly seizes the mans throat in his teeth, his second power engaged in this moment, the sickening crack of bone and sinew following as his throat is pierced and bones and vertebrae are sliced apart by the boys extreme bite force- any scream the Hunter may have made lost in a simple gurgle of blood as he collapses into a bloodied heap upon the floor.

“He….hurt you.”

This is all the explanation he sees fit to give, leopard gold fading from his chocolate hued gaze as he moves to step over the body as if it is simply….nothing, the boy utterly emotionless, as if such things simply do not matter. One arm lifts lazily to wipe the blood from his lips though his claws and teeth remain as he begins to mutter to himself irritably, turning suddenly towards the curly-haired woman once more.

“We are…going now.”

He knows she is injured, his Hunters Instinct readily having pinpointed the location of her weakness, her wrist seized in his hand once more as he proceeds to drag her in the direction of her home, his ability allowing such a thing to be found simply because he desires it, pulling her into the shadows and along behind him, head tilting and turning as if listening to voices he alone can hear, sense highly attuned in this moment. He has lived so long upon such streets and indeed he is experienced perhaps, in avoiding those he desires not to meet, keeping both Birdie and himself concealed within the shadows before proceeding to march right up to the door of her home, pointing at it now.

“Open.”

It a simple command for the woman alone, barely giving the poor girl a chance to open the blue door before he grasps her once more, proceeding to storm straight into her home, seemingly oblivious to any form of social etiquette upon such a thing, crossing into the lounge room before suddenly turning upon her. That his sudden behaviour may very well terrify the woman has clearly not occurred to him, Birdie suddenly thrust up against the nearest wall, his arms resting either side of her, very near caging her between himself as those wild eyes simply rest upon her own a moment- before trailing down and towards her injured shoulder. He knows she is hurt, understands the implication of wound or injury and such a thing is simply….not allowed. Wounds are a weakness. Instinct alone has assured him of that, the man acting entirely as the animal demands- and weakness is…unacceptable. He is lithe perhaps, slender in build and yet Risque’s constant supply of food along with so much of his time spent within the confines of the Ark assure the young man is far more powerful then his frame suggests, one arm lifted to press across her chest, weight thrown against her….pinning her in place as his right hand lifts to firmly grasp her injured shoulder, claws slicing through her shirt to expose the point of his displeasure. That she may neither like such closeness, nor willingly desire his own brand of primitive assistance in this moment remains to be seen as his eyes focus entirely upon the wound.

It is fortunate perhaps, that her own body, to some extent, has managed to move the bullet slightly, the silver weapon…within reach and yet that such a thing may well be beyond painful, much less better performed with a sterilised scalpel and stiches clearly hardly matters.

“I will…fix it.”

He offers nothing else, fractured words falling silent and he presses her firmly against the wall, closer to her in this moment then he has surely ever been as one finger lifts to her wound, sharpened claw slicing at whatever flesh still remains, cutting his way towards the bullet before his claw brushes against it, doing to her what he has done so many times before to himself, grasping the foreign object between two claws before suddenly and swiftly pulling it from the now thoroughly bleeding wound. He knows of the pain of such things, has done it to himself before, mind capable perhaps, of understanding any shouts of screams such a thing may ensure and yet his claws are, at least, precise, slender, capable of cutting and pulling all at once, the damage he has caused minimal perhaps- for the ultimate goal he has achieved, the bullet hurriedly dropped upon the floor as he releases her, stepping back and away from any punches she may seek to throw, rubbing at his bloodied fingers- the silver having burned at his skin as he sees fit to glare at her once more.

“You are….girl. You do….not…protect. That is….my job. Not Birdie’s. Stupid girl.”


madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push




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