wanna go on a picnic? alpaca lunch {gay panic day 2}
Jul 1, 2021 8:07:43 GMT -5
Post by k!ah on Jul 1, 2021 8:07:43 GMT -5
* * *The axe finds its chest, burying its head deep into the cavity, searching for the heart. It almost finds it, steel kissing muscle when Bell shoves is spear through the mutt's throat, blood raining down on her like rain. It's warm and sticky and thick against her skin. It soaks her hair, paints her face red, leaving her panting as the mutt falls to its knees, choking on its own blood, its heart fluttering like a butterfly with broken wings. Dying.
Grunting, Mauve kicks the beast, forcing it onto its side as its dying whimpers fade. Tightening her grasp on her axe she prowls towards its head, it's eyes were wide open, lifeless and void of light. Mauve presses the toe of her boot into its cheek, looking over her shoulder at Bubby, looking past the state of panic he seemed to have work himself into, "Yo, Bubby, soon this will be you!" Her grin is wide, her words teasing. Though the threat beneath them was not hidden, it was hung in the air between us like a knife, waiting for the perfect moment to drop.
Turning back towards the mutt she puts all her weight behind her axe, lopping it over her head she grunts as she send it straight into the dead mutts neck. The head buries itself into the neck, deep, slicing through the tendons and the thick muscles of the neck. But it wasn't enough. She rips it from the flesh, blood coating the blade, a deep red, the colours of ruby's, but so much more precious. Bringing it down again she hears the crack of bone, a satisfying sound. One more strike and the head becomes separated from the body.
Slinging her axe onto her waist her leans down to wrap blood stained fingers around the beasts antlers, ignoring the way the strain of the muscles causes the torn muscles of her left biceps to scream at her, a searing pain that has her biting down a hiss of pain. "It's heavier than it looks," she grunts, pulling the head towards one of the picnic tables she had claimed as her work bench.
As the fight was ending Mauve had noticed a parachute discarded by one of the tables. A staple gun and feathers. Perfect for Mauves expertise. Atticus must have taken notes from her gift, noticing her talent. Mauve wouldn't be using a rock as a pillow tonight, tonight she had luxury, a throw pillow fit for a queen.