Fated and cursed, cursed and fated. Something standing in the air between them, something that Dread can't put words to. He's alive with it. Crackling with it. Everything brought to the surface with the help of a little booze and more than a few feelings that he doesn't know how to articulate. Fuck. No, he really wasn't meant to be a diplomat. He'd rather solve this with his teeth than his words.
Words. Hers enunciated crisply, echoing off the stone floors of the large room. Dread bristled. Just hearing her talk like that, he can't help himself. The snarl is harsh, and he truly springs upon her. His teeth against her neck-- sharper than they've been before. More intent. Possessive, sharp, allowing himself to be overtaken by the darkness that's always been lurking in his chest. Letting a little more come out to play. Doing what he can to maintain control over Deluge, though he never expected she'd make things easy. Dread knows her too well for that.
"Interest--" though his voice is quiet, Dread's tone heats. "How's this for fucking interest?" The man lunges for his prize with his teeth, with his foreleg. Chancing a grapple, the gloves coming off. Something shifting in his chest, something different lighting in his system-- something different than all of the other fights. This is maybe the most important of all, and something in Dread is coming loose.
Bard
