when the stars threw down their spears and water'd heaven with their tears:
The rocks fall together and everyone else tears apart. Normally, such chaotic mishap would discourage the shifter from coming near, but lately he’s been doing this thing called feeling and it’s gotten him twisted internally. Wyrm wakes every morning in a hot fever for … something. Something. That’s the best way he can think to put it. It drives him a little crazy and in the past he’s always dealt with crazy by submitting himself to more base instincts. What do they normally coin it? Letting yourself go.
So he does just that.
Too quick for mortal eyes he suddenly become visible to the rest of them, his camouflage snapping away to reveal a hulking, black mass. There are wings, assuredly, but of what nature no one can be quite sure. Some sort of mixture between dog, lion, goat and … god knows what. He flexes the rounded muscles of his back, cracks his spine and sends a clicking noise out among the others, a sense of echolocation for eyes that interpret heat and that particular ticking soundwave. A gust of wind ripples through the rest of the still air and slams him back against the stone wall, causing his legs to splay outward and grip the stone with paws that are made like a gecko’s and nails that certainly were not reptilian. He hisses, curls elfish ears back against his skull, and pushes himself off to rocket skyward.
From above he hovers and pins a certain creature for destruction: a hot-blooded mare with a stink that penetrates his nose and who seems to be garnishing help from another useless-looking creature. No matter, they could equally pay for making themselves such large targets. His whip-like tail curls underneath his belly and slides back out while the rest of his form rounds mid-air to point earthward for a nose-dive. Wyrm plummets, spirals to gain tight speed, and then dips up above the hard-packed earth to barrel towards them, yellow eyes bright with feverish anticipation.
With claws outstretched and a mouth open wide the shapeless hellcat of a horse is ready to unzip flesh from bone, no holding back, no regrets.
He rather likes this gladiator business.
did he smile his work to see? did he who made the Lamb make thee?
ooc: targeting City and Orion's Belt, hit by Canaan's wind burst