— I'll break you a hundred different ways —
He is not often caught out in the night.
In fact, it is rare for him to be out at all. He preferred the solitude and the quiet, avoiding the mundane chatter that often clogged the more populated areas. He couldn’t relate to them, and they couldn’t relate to him. His mind is often blank, fueled only by thoughts of necessity – food, drink, and very rarely, sex. Everything about him was minimal – especially in the dead of night. Stripped down to nothing but bare bone, disjointed and skeletal – though not the bleached white that you find scattered on the beach, worn by sun and elements. His bones still reek of the muscle and blood that rots away come nightfall, and the only sound is the scrape of low-hanging branches as they rattle against the vertebrae of his spine and the fine bones of his wings as he walks.
This part of the forest was often deserted, which is why he kept himself here. The trees are dense enough that hardly even the beams of the moon can strain through it, and is away from the prying eyes of others. He wasn’t concerned with frightening them – but he loathed their questions, even if they went unspoken. Perhaps if he had the capacity to understand, he could sympathize with their curiosity; after all, not even he was immune to having his interest piqued. He supposes he might be a hypocrite, but he doesn’t think on it too much.
He hears her before he sees her – by some sort of strange magic that allows him to still have his senses despite lacking the vital organs for them. He stops, turning his skeletal head to watch the tiger as it rushes towards him. He stands, gaunt and unmoving, with a haunting tilt of his skull, wondering if she will stop, or simply go around. He wouldn’t make a very filling meal for her tonight.
— and I'll make you remember my face —
@[Sochi]