[ The noise that comes as Clarke teleports is dangerous and feral, an echo through the forest. Darkness is cloying, really, sinking through as if it's a real touch, a real press of something that keeps happiness out of minds. It's this darkness that she uses to her advantage, twisting a little as she rushes through on heavy legs - four, not two, her howl echoing as she scents blood in the air, familiar blood, enough to make her recoil in anger.
friend blood death pain hurt no bite tear destroy-
She leaps through the forestry like a shot arrow, fast, furious, dangerous, her low growl as she slips and moves to rest before Clarke echoing. There's a twitch in the shadows and she doesn't pause for a moment, dark eyes, black as her fur, twisting to take it in. Lauralae moves without hesitation, bounding forward, leaping up to twist her teeth in to an arm, a limb, something that had come to take Clarke from her.
The bone snaps under her strength, her snout buried in blood, and she keeps going; she bites harder, harder, twisting, practically drawing the wrist and hand off the person that dared follow and attack, that dared come, hearing the howl of pain and relishing it. She moves higher, then, teeth on shoulder, tearing, biting, flaying, ripping skin from flesh under her teeth and moving higher, devouring the neck, the jugular, destroying him for daring to attack.
His face she leaves purposefully, to claim who he is and why he came.
When she is done, when she is sure the blood pouring from him is the last twitch of life, she sits and howls again, pride for a kill, bloodlust rushing through her before her body turns back, pushing herself forward. Matted with blood, Lauralae trots back to Clarke's side as if nothing of importance had happened, as if she hadn't just ripped a man to pieces for daring to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. ]
no subject
friend blood death pain hurt no bite tear destroy-
She leaps through the forestry like a shot arrow, fast, furious, dangerous, her low growl as she slips and moves to rest before Clarke echoing. There's a twitch in the shadows and she doesn't pause for a moment, dark eyes, black as her fur, twisting to take it in. Lauralae moves without hesitation, bounding forward, leaping up to twist her teeth in to an arm, a limb, something that had come to take Clarke from her.
The bone snaps under her strength, her snout buried in blood, and she keeps going; she bites harder, harder, twisting, practically drawing the wrist and hand off the person that dared follow and attack, that dared come, hearing the howl of pain and relishing it. She moves higher, then, teeth on shoulder, tearing, biting, flaying, ripping skin from flesh under her teeth and moving higher, devouring the neck, the jugular, destroying him for daring to attack.
His face she leaves purposefully, to claim who he is and why he came.
When she is done, when she is sure the blood pouring from him is the last twitch of life, she sits and howls again, pride for a kill, bloodlust rushing through her before her body turns back, pushing herself forward. Matted with blood, Lauralae trots back to Clarke's side as if nothing of importance had happened, as if she hadn't just ripped a man to pieces for daring to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. ]