Gonna draw your last breaths, at the end of our Mek’Leths

Something has turned on within her. Something great. Terrible, but great. It's something that Hazel has fought tooth and nail to handle within herself, something she's done her best to conceal. That doesn't matter. That doesn't matter now, with this red stranger, this old man. It turns something on, a switch flipping. Her control has always been tenuous at best, and this? It's so much. It is so much. Hazel loses her grip on herself. She is relentless in this moment, perhaps more than usual. Something truly wild takes her over.

More, he says. "You don't tell me what to do, old man." She snarls. It was just a raid, but it's more. There's something deeply wrong, a thing that lives in her chest. A thing that she has not dreamed of since the statues appeared and she'd cast her doubts into the fire. This is different than that, too. Different... something has come loose within Hazel. Something terrible, but great. Explosive, her crystalline fangs sink into the tender flesh of the neck. And just like that, she's fighting her old man again. Dizzying, disorienting.

Hazel met his movement, scaffolding upon the bulky stranger. She is lighter, and can only hold it for a breath. Where she is solid at first, Hazel takes a step back. Her forelegs crash to the ground, as well as the rest of her. Smashing down with as much force as she can muster, jerking backwards with a toss of her head. Hazel is making far more noise than she typically would, snarling and snapping. Something has taken hold in this moment, and she's not sure she'll be able to put that genie back in its bottle. Though she could feel the snap of his teeth, the dig of his antlers, adrenaline has done enough to dull the pain. Adrenaline, and something else.

Fuck.

"Speech"