Post by Gabriel Adams on Nov 10, 2010 21:13:59 GMT -5
There is was, that voice in his head. He knew Orca to be a lycan simply because of that voice. It could be irritating as hell, the unfairness of it. Then, a switch of magic for a telepathic voice seemed like more than a fair trade. A little voice in the back of his head sent him a pulse of panic. ShitshitshitSHIT.
As claws scraped across the muzzle of the brute, Orca snapped his head up. For a second Gabriel though that might be it, the end of ... everything. The teeth clipped on his wings, and there was a painful yank as Orca ripped out a couple of feathers. It wasn't so much that it hurt than he needed them to fucking fly. It didn't help when one of those impossibly long canines sliced over something more important - his 'finger'. How the hell had he managed to hit the wing that was already hurt, the one that was his injured arm, was beyond Gabriel.
All he knew was that he had lost his balance and his concentration in that split second moment. Gabriel shifted even as he fell, and he came down on the bad arm. Shit. The first impact over, he rolled a few times and bumped up against the counter. For a moment he didn't even move, just lay on his side, gasping for breath. Hell, that hurt. He looked at his fingers, where there was blood. Orca had gotten him.
"Fuck."
Gabriel sat up, hugging his arm to his chest. His other hand with into the pocket of his cloak.
"Yeah, that was me. Just because we're not lycans doesn't mean we have to look like this all the time," Gabriel growled.
His fingers closed over something cold, and he jerked it out of his pocket. It caught the light; a silver chain. Hell, this was going to hurt ... but he'd rather not take any chances. Gritting his teeth, he pressed the chain to his finger. Immediately the skin hissed and burned, like peroxide on an infected cut. After a few seconds, it stopped, and Gabriel looked up, grinning. "We'll have to play more carefully than that, won't we?"
To hell with it. There was a second throwing knife in his sleeve, and in a moment, he loosed it, scrambling to his feet. The chain dropped to the floor, and a moment later he spotted the stool falling to the ground. Oops. He must have lost concentration more than he'd thought. 971
As claws scraped across the muzzle of the brute, Orca snapped his head up. For a second Gabriel though that might be it, the end of ... everything. The teeth clipped on his wings, and there was a painful yank as Orca ripped out a couple of feathers. It wasn't so much that it hurt than he needed them to fucking fly. It didn't help when one of those impossibly long canines sliced over something more important - his 'finger'. How the hell had he managed to hit the wing that was already hurt, the one that was his injured arm, was beyond Gabriel.
All he knew was that he had lost his balance and his concentration in that split second moment. Gabriel shifted even as he fell, and he came down on the bad arm. Shit. The first impact over, he rolled a few times and bumped up against the counter. For a moment he didn't even move, just lay on his side, gasping for breath. Hell, that hurt. He looked at his fingers, where there was blood. Orca had gotten him.
"Fuck."
Gabriel sat up, hugging his arm to his chest. His other hand with into the pocket of his cloak.
"Yeah, that was me. Just because we're not lycans doesn't mean we have to look like this all the time," Gabriel growled.
His fingers closed over something cold, and he jerked it out of his pocket. It caught the light; a silver chain. Hell, this was going to hurt ... but he'd rather not take any chances. Gritting his teeth, he pressed the chain to his finger. Immediately the skin hissed and burned, like peroxide on an infected cut. After a few seconds, it stopped, and Gabriel looked up, grinning. "We'll have to play more carefully than that, won't we?"
To hell with it. There was a second throwing knife in his sleeve, and in a moment, he loosed it, scrambling to his feet. The chain dropped to the floor, and a moment later he spotted the stool falling to the ground. Oops. He must have lost concentration more than he'd thought. 971