#asdaweasd

[nvrcmplt]

"You don't scream like the rest, tell me, darling. Are you not scared of what I can do?? I could easily rip you into pieces like I did with the others when I fed your insides to my pets."

The creature leans in, hot breath to the nape of their neck as he gleefully watched his captive, the shadow tendrils bounding them, in case they're likely to do something foolish.

The talon fingers roughly grabbed at their chin, raising them up so they're looking at him only. "What would you do if I carve my name in your skin??" The pointy tip draws blood against their skin, watching it blossom like a flower.

"Do you wish to be mine? Or should I eat you from the inside??" (Shadow @ tyler)

It wasn't a lie, though he wasn't screaming at seeing what he was, it wasn't the worse, which was odd to say. It was terrifying, really was, to point Tyler was sure his bladder would of emptied itself here and now if he had anything left in the tank. Instead, he was trying to keep focused, a practice most Witches go through. Working with blood, guts, gore was a common sight - to bury hands into the heart of buck chests, to dismantle bones and muscle, sometimes it was just draining rodents for their blood into pots and things. It was a odd profession being a Witch and yet - sights like these still unsettle the heart.

As his nape was breathed on, fear tickled his skin in goosebumps, his lungs seized in an inhale but his lashes flutter to keep them low. To keep his mind cantered, chanting within his mind, silent and steady - to not stop because he knew the moment he did would be the moment he vomits. Wrists snagged, body bound and heart pounding in his ears, the Candlewitch couldn't understand how the fuck he came to be here? Was it a drink? A blink in the shadows? Something triggered him being here with these other unsavable folks but he had a feeling, this guy - the man that was closing in on him, talking and even touching his face…

Didn't know he was a Witch.

As his cheek was pierced with a sharp gentleness that warmed over with his old blood, Tyler felt his throat dry out. Ah, shit. This guy was insane, completely and yet, Tyler felt the fear cool his fingertips and toes, inhale through his nose and looking down to try and not succumb to their stare, even reply - not until he finished his mantra in mind. It was hard, since he winced at the pain of his cheek soon triggering an itch, stringing from the clear bacteria on that talon. Shit, shit, shit… Slow, steady - slow and steady, slow… Inhaling once more, Tyler lifted his gaze - the sea greens shimmering with a new found answer.

"Sorry… but no thanks." As his lips part, smoke wisps as if a drake was to breathe flame, but it was just a part of Tyler's core, a part of who and what he was. As his old blood ignited, the droplets on those talons began to ignite with its freedom, weeping the pricked cut close in a burn. "Salamander." An utter of a clever beast, a quick thing, a creature that near enough crawled out of Tyler's throat - rested upon his tongue only to open it's slimy maw and expel a flame thick enough to cover the close fuckers face. As his skin took on a sheen that mimicked the small beast, Tyler twisted his wrists, hoping the slick would allow him to slip free of the tendrils that held him so easily - but it wasn't so he could run.

He had no idea where he was, so he was going to do what Witches did best… Protect themselves with any means necessary - after all, Tyler only needed one hand to slip free to swipe at his own blood and mark it over his chest in a sigil of Celtic protection. Swift and at ease, did it turn into a blinding veil, a curtain of morning dawn in the dark place as he held the Salamander from his mouth upon palm now. "Burn it down, Salamander. Let these people rest in peace." Ah - yeah, Tyler wasn't thinking that he'll make it out alive, but he would take this bastard down with him if he had too.

"Svarog Flame." Uttered as the Salamander once more began to inhale deep, vomiting heavier flames, thicker flames, hotter and hotter and hotter flames…

[nvrcmplt]

[ cover ]  for your muse to cover mine with a blanket or a jacket  koto putting her haori over beo only to realize that it's very unlikely to keep him very warm :clown:

It was like one of those rags on Hendrikson's armour sets. A strip of fabric that once used to be a cape or something. It wasn't tiny pre-say, but it wasn't at all working how she intended it to. It was funny to him, but he didn't dismiss her attempts of being polite and chivalrous when a shiver ran through his spine from heavy rains once falling and the winds picking up on his venture here. The large sniff of his nose was an indication he was suffering the aftermath of a bad decision to be so under equipped for the small trek from one place to the next, but he was here now.

Sat at the edge of a fireplace, nursing a mug of hot honey milk and being gifted a haori - she called it, over his shoulder. "You have my thanks."

[nvrcmplt]

Slows his reps to blink and just feel the situation... Something's going on? An ear flicks and his tail adjusts itself on his workbench before he hums the odd feeling aside to return to his workout.