- Jan 1, 2023
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CONTENT WARNING: Contains detailed descriptions of eating a dead animal (prey).
There was little inhibition left for Chrysaliswing to scour for. Whatever lie still as he raged through life, those fragments had surely melted into vapor and fluttered away from his grasp. There was little use capturing trails of wind, for it would always flit through the cracks and taunt him as it rose higher than he ever could. After a haze of a hunting patrol that he had been dragged along for, the chimaeric warrior's jaws fastened upon the left wingbones of an unfortunate robin, sharpened ivories splintering the friable bird-bones beneath. Walking past the fresh-kill pile where the rest of his patrol routinely stopped by, glassy eyes darted about for any sort of secluded spot of shadow to soak himself into. Maybe, if he sank deep enough into gloom, it would eventually swell unto his sinewy framework. He settled down upon his haunches, ungracefully dropping the bird upon the unforgiving ground, as though not even the rugged earth would gurgle and swallow the dead carcass of a thing. It pleaded upwards to him with sable beads for sight, like a mere disciple praying to the unknowable divine that lie above it. He spared it no mercy, for he could hardly afford it himself. Teeth latched onto the wingbones once more, and he pulled on it to reveal glistening tendons and muscles beneath, placing one paw on its once-prideful chest to stabilize it. He dropped the feathery pinion, too, for it was not what he sought. Ravenous jaws pierced into the chest of his prey, feeling as bulbous organs burst upon the slightest touch of violent edge. The tomcat had hardly noticed the blood and guts that scattered beyond the gaping cavity nor the sanguine that retted into the fur on his chin.
There was little inhibition left for Chrysaliswing to scour for. Whatever lie still as he raged through life, those fragments had surely melted into vapor and fluttered away from his grasp. There was little use capturing trails of wind, for it would always flit through the cracks and taunt him as it rose higher than he ever could. After a haze of a hunting patrol that he had been dragged along for, the chimaeric warrior's jaws fastened upon the left wingbones of an unfortunate robin, sharpened ivories splintering the friable bird-bones beneath. Walking past the fresh-kill pile where the rest of his patrol routinely stopped by, glassy eyes darted about for any sort of secluded spot of shadow to soak himself into. Maybe, if he sank deep enough into gloom, it would eventually swell unto his sinewy framework. He settled down upon his haunches, ungracefully dropping the bird upon the unforgiving ground, as though not even the rugged earth would gurgle and swallow the dead carcass of a thing. It pleaded upwards to him with sable beads for sight, like a mere disciple praying to the unknowable divine that lie above it. He spared it no mercy, for he could hardly afford it himself. Teeth latched onto the wingbones once more, and he pulled on it to reveal glistening tendons and muscles beneath, placing one paw on its once-prideful chest to stabilize it. He dropped the feathery pinion, too, for it was not what he sought. Ravenous jaws pierced into the chest of his prey, feeling as bulbous organs burst upon the slightest touch of violent edge. The tomcat had hardly noticed the blood and guts that scattered beyond the gaping cavity nor the sanguine that retted into the fur on his chin.
