p/ut/a

[Windowmemer]

JORMUNGAND

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OC TEXT | IC opinions only
//tw gore


IC TEXT

It was a beautiful twilight, the sun dipping from the brightness of the day, dragging the darkness with its departure. Jormungand was enjoying his time, the nature hiding his footsteps and muffling the sounds he was making, something he didn't really worry about. He was having a casual walk through the woods and wanted to make his presence known so people could come and fight him, doing typical Jormungand stuff: chilling with fucks, killing mutts, and spilling guts.
Speaking of guts… a shuffling noise, deep, accompanied occasionally by a loud, pained moan, captured his attention, reached his ears and he lifted his head from the corpse of a tiger he was digging into - the pelt was a pretty color, would match his den, okay? , and waited. A lumbering beast dragged itself slowly into view, and all the fur on Jormungand’s back shot up, his senses immediately switching onto high alert though still feeling slightly full and head quite heavy from the food he had consumed earlier.
His maw opened, he called out, “Assistance-“ But his bravery and male pride made the please! I need help! die down in his throat before they could reach his vocal chords. He noted that the huge animal was moving very slowly, more like dragging himself along, actually, a concentrated grimace on his face, which intruigued the panther more, so he swallowed the words down and tilted his head in amusement. The patterns of its breathing and  movements were irregular, it changed in pace and would speed up at random intervals and slow down again until it looked like it was barely alive. The panther looked a little further, squinting as it was dark and it  was quite a distance away, and noticed substance leaking from the other’s lower body. The other coughed, exposing black, jagged, mismatched fangs, and Jormungand tasted the metallic tang of blood in the air. The animal looked fatally injured, and a sinister grin spread across Jormungand’s face and he sat down, waiting for the beast to notice him. He did, but where he would normally roar and attack, Jormungand guessed, he gave an annoyed huff and continued on.
Jormungand stood up and made his way to the lumbering beast. “I’ll call you puta.” He began teasing him, letting his gaze slide across puta’s body, mocking him to get a reaction. All he got was a scared noise, then a hurt grunt. Jormungand narrowed his eyes. “You’re big, and I’m small. You know what that means?” He cooed, sliding  underneath puta’s body. He looked up at the open, gaping, steaming underbelly and raised his head, clamping his jaws around a string of guts, and pulled, holding tight. The beast screamed out and the panther danced out the way, the flesh still held between his lips like a victory trophy. He raised it in the air and watched the puta collapse to his knees then side, then squirm around on the ground. “Don’t move, it’ll just hurt more.” He made his way slowly towards a bramble-filled bush, and with a swing of his head tossed the guts onto it. He returned to the wounded animal and hopped onto it’s huge frame, skin now ashen compared to its earlier blue.
He hadn’t finished his killing spree yet, and he directed his gaze slowly towards the bulging eyeball of the beast. It was still alive, breathing heavily, and Jormungand let a rumble grow from his throat. "I like you, you.... toy. I'll keep you a bit longer, shall I?"
So he leant forwards and locked his jaws around the maw of the beast, shut his eyes as he drew core strength, and began ripping, leaning backwards as he did so and sinking his claws into the other's flesh. Slowly, very slowly, but because the fact that the panther's jaws were so good at grinding bones, pieces of bone began to creak and snap and cracking noises could be heard until the panther gave one final jerk and was left standing on top of the body with half the beasts' jaw in his mouth. Part was still attached to the rest of the face so slowly he raked a claw down the length of it, the sharp talons slicing easily into the skin on the cheeks.
Finally, the first eyeball popped after a shard was sent ramming into it, the shadows of the setting sun contorting the angles of his face, highlighting the almost manic gleam in his optics.

#psychosocial.