[private] hangman hooded, softly swinging

[atrox]

hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

Life had descended into a warm haze. The summer nights were long and the afternoons were thick with the kind of pure pleasure that could not be manufactured or forced, but merely uncovered. He grew nearly lazy in his contentment, pleased to put aside his fury and rage in pursuit of life’s finer offerings. Although his body remembered the wars and the riots, the armies and battles, he did his best to forget, to relax into this steady pulse of life alongside Ryatah, focused on protecting her and growing fat off the land.

It is on one of those days that he walks amongst the Hyaline mountains as a panther, heavy tail swinging behind him, each step purposeful as his claws knead the rich loam beneath him. Several paces behind are two souls he has summoned, each radiating that familiar blue, their eyes watchful and their mouths mercifully shut. Atrox has never expressed much interest in the musings of those souls and when they had first opened their mouths once they arrived, he had shot them one sharp look to quiet them.

It was, thankfully, all he needed to do.

Now, the trio of them walk through the winding trees. Every so often, Atrox bounds ahead, stretching his muscles beneath his sleek velvet coat, before falling back into his comfortable walk. He sniffs the scent of a passing deer, considering going after it, before he catches the scent of something far more alluring. His crooked smile grows wicked as he takes a different path, veering off into the bramble and thicket.

Leaping, he manages to make his way to a tree where he comfortably drape over it just in time for Ryatah to come around the corner. He angles his head where it rests on his leg, casually swiping his free paw through the air toward her. “Where are you off to today, my love?”

ATROX | THE PANTHER KING

@Ryatah