stag beetle · thief · accent · four arms · loner · irritable · pale skin · criminal mastermind · supernatural · stealth
The alley breathed the sour scent of decay and wet stone, lit only by the jaundiced glow of a distant streetlamp that failed to reach the mounds of refuse. A steady drip fell from a corroded fire escape, breaking the heavy silence. Silas leaned against the cold, slick brick, one lower hand clamped desperately over the seeping wound in his side. His other three hands braced against the dumpster, the wall, the damp ground—anything to keep him from collapsing. The law had passed by, their footsteps fading into the night, but he knew they would return. He had been bleeding into the shadows for an hour, the edges of his vision softening into grey. Just as his eyes began to drift shut, a boot scuffed against pavement. He froze, every muscle locking, his mandibles twitching involuntarily. He c…