She hadn't answered... in Erik's mind, that meant she was, in fact, hurt. The near-feral child threw himself at the grey stranger, a glint of teeth and poor feelings within the hail. His hackles up, drawing to his full height, eyes narrow. A sound, horrible and wet and crackling, ripped from his chest. That crackling sound... ever present. Even above the sound of the little ice pellets against the ground all around him, it's nearly tangible. Every breath vile and menacing, his brow set deep into a scowl.
Erik can feel it. The electricity that runs through his system, the way it makes his hair stand on end, the fact he can taste it. Listen, there are few ways to truly describe the full experience of licking a staticky TV screen, but if you know you know. Somewhere beyond his head, Erik can... feel something. A hand on his shoulder, but then, it wasn't really there. Was it? A little tug somewhere in the back of his mind. For the first time, it's the hands of gods on the shoulders of a young berserker. Erik has not only sprung to action, but sprung to life. Was this what it meant to be a man?
But there's no time to explore that now. Erik moved to interfere with the stranger's outstretched paw, closing the gap with little grace. His desire is to crash the full weight of his already brawny shoulders into her chest. Knock her back, knock her away-- protect Maki. There's a rushing in his ears, it's at war with the hail. Sharp but round, pelting down around his shoulders and rolling down his back. What is the metallic taste in his mouth? For once, the cursed child feels alive.
"Speech"
