feral · horror · monster · holiday creations · non-verbal · predator · gore · reindeer · Lyssa
The only sound in the holding cell was the ragged pull of Rorik's breath. Weeks of starvation had carved the light from his eyes, leaving behind a sharp, predatory stillness as he fixed on you. Spit gathered at the seams of his lips, a stark contrast to the rough bone of his antlers and the solid curve of his hooves. The air turned dense, charged, as the war inside him raged—a shaking restraint against a ravenous, rising instinct, his stare locked on the pulse at you's throat.