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Aɴᴅʏʀ Pʀɪɴᴄᴇ ([personal profile] deconstruct) wrote2016-06-08 04:00 am

v2 OPEN POST;


NETWORK | ACTION | PROMPTS | NSFW/SFW | IT'S ALL GRAVY

rage rage against the dying light

[personal profile] dontia 2017-01-20 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His handlers explain to him in a semi-drugged haze that they want a good show tonight.

They get a show, just not the kind they want.

-

Konstantin doesn't remember the last time he had real blood on his teeth.

This is real blood. The fearful kind, flowing thick and warm into his mouth as he clutches fast onto one body, halting and jerking in his grip. It feels good, the fight, he can feel it churning and twisting in his gut. He wants to take his time, make him hurt, but there's no time. He can feel the prickle of Andyr's own adrenaline rush, so he bites down, severs the jugular, takes one last taste before dropping the body.

He's smeared blood all over the clothing they've forced him into--some kind of exhibitionist get up that was once a beautiful blue color, cut out at the spine and on the sides, gauzy and exotic-looking. It's dark, almost black now with blood, he realizes, casually sliding his tongue over his palm to lap up where a thick streak of the stuff has stayed fast to his skin.

Another man is lying on the ground, spared the agony with a broken neck, gouged out eyes.

He looks good to Konstantin's starved stomach.

Move. Move. Move.

He's tasted blood.

It's more than enough. Andyr is fumbling with the door panel and there are alarms. Here. Four doors down. Five floors up. He can hear a group of armed guards heading their way and by the cant of their boots, there are four of them, carrying rifles--whether they're loaded with tranquilizers or actual live rounds is anyone's guess, they all rattle the same in their casings.

The man at his feet is drowning on his own blood still somehow.

He moves forward to meet Andyr at the doorway, reaching forward with his fingers and gripping fast at where the metal is soldered to metal.

Normally, one might put in a passcode to open the chamber.

But this is not normal and Konstantin is full of all kinds of rage, gripping the sides of the panel with Andyr and giving it a hard tug so that it tears from the wall with a sickening sound of metal twisting and warping and crumbling. ]


There are four, I can hear them-- [ he says, the footsteps coming louder still. ] We could take them.

[ They don't really have a choice, the door is opening. ]

[personal profile] dontia 2017-01-23 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Starving.

[ Konstantin catches the flailing guard in his arms, the spray of blood from his jugular an arc of brilliance against the sterile white of the halls. He lets it coat his face in a bright streak of crimson as he dips his head down and sinks his teeth fast into the meat of the man's face, feeling the crack of a jaw bone, the splintering of teeth. He bites without care, feeling the torrent of a body frantically pumping away at its own blood supply, sluicing over his hands until the man is too slippery to hold fast to and they tumble to the floor.

He finishes the job. It could be called merciful, but really, it's just hunger. He's been held on the edge of starvation for a week now and it's all coming back to him, the way it feels to have a full belly, a mouth coated in fresh, wet blood.

Andyr takes care of another guard to the side, slamming his skull with his own weapon, and Konstantin darts forward to help, faster than any human ought to be only to feel gloved arms grab his elbows, twisting him back.

He thrashes, the man holding faster, as tightly as he can until Konstantin twists, nearly dislocating his arm in the process to get a good, powerful kick in. The man buckles and lets go in shock, giving him the perfect opening to surge forward and bite down hard on his neck. The bone snaps instantly and his body becomes over two hundred pounds of dead weight.

His teeth come free with flesh and blood as he tears away, making sure nothing in his mouth goes to waste on the floor. He hunches over his catch, fingers digging into the ballistic material of the guard's suit almost possessively.

The fourth guard is bringing up the rear, he can hear him dashing forward and at once and Konstantin lifts his head. ]


Incoming--