(Untitled)

[stonyfaced]

Characters: Stoneface (stonyfaced)
Date/Time: October 23rd/Evening
Location: Butcher's
Rating: PG-13 for gore
Summary: Stoneface was always a bit suspicious of Fenrir. Now's the time to figure it out for real.
Warnings: SOYLENT GREEN IS HUMAN, folks. This is going to be gross. There will be vomiting involved.

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[asmodial]

He had only stepped out for a moment, and he saw the man walking into his shop just a moment too late to catch him. He hadn't hurried, intending to catch the man at the counter.

That was his mistake. A sloppy one, granted, but most people didn't poke around empty shops.

He stepped inside the shop just as the man walked out of the back room, his face set and determined, and in that moment, he knew exactly what had happened. The man had seen. He knew. All of this time and careful sneaking about, feeding the lambs their own meat, and now it would be all undone.

He met the man's eyes just for a moment, a moment that seemed to stretch on for ages, and then he turned, his boots catching the tiled floor and he opened the door in an instant, darting out into the emptying market. He was quick, quicker than most humans, and he shed his skin as he ran. Gorged from the previous night's kill, he let his human skin fade around him and brought to life the wolf that lay under his husk.

His clawed hands dug into the ground, and he ran on all clawed fours before spreading his wings and leaping off of the island and into the mist below.

[stonyfaced]

For a while, there was only the chase. Stoneface didn't yell; there was no point. Fenrir wouldn't listen, and he didn't want any poor fools to join in the chase. What would he do when he caught up? Cuff him? Kill him?

He didn't know. He didn't know much, only that as long as Fenrir ran, he would chase. Months of patrolling made him fast, but the monster was faster, and within him, the beast pushed him forward, propelling his every step, whenever his breathing waned, it whispered in his ear, he killed. So he kept running, because nothing and nobody could run forever.

As it turned out, it couldn't, but it could fly. He nearly toppled over the island with him, but recognized futility when he saw it, only just saving himself from following primal instinct and leaping. Instead, he fell to his hands and knees with a heavy sound.

He panted, then, with a heartfelt groan, vomited upon the ground, loudly, messily. Waiting for the spots in his vision to fade and his arms to stop shaking, he stood up and wiped his mouth, staring at the empty space where Fenrir had leapt. Then he went back to the butcher's and picked up Fenrir's empty skin.

When Stoneface got back, he walked into the back, and on compulsion, picked up the butcher's knife and slammed it into the shell, into the wall, pinning it right between the eyes. Slowly, and methodically, he picked up every knife, and pinned the skin up, arm and leg, pelvis to chest, head to toe. He stabbed the last one where a human's heart would be, viciously, then punched the wall.

"I will catch you," he told the skin, voice quiet. "And you will burn."

Stoneface was a very angry man.

Fenrir had just made him angrier.