Burned my hands

É R E B O S

♆
he made a silent tread into hellborn- it's midnight by now. the land was dark and foggy. he grew to like the woods as he became accustomed to it. how well his larger body could find coverage within it. it would flood over him like a refreshment from he humidity outside of hellborn; cool against his skin but it stung his fresh wounds.
massive paws came to trot briskly past the borders, coming to find his own larger den within moments. coming in, he sat himself with a huff. body tense, he grunted in pain. Érebos's chest was visibly wounded, matching with the larger gash over his right cheek that finally did dry. inflammation set in and soon, he would need to clean the wounds to prevent infection. but somehow he felt like he deserved the bearings fic gave him for a while longer.
he is silent with eyes empty with emotion- however there was an anger the brewed deep within the voids of his pupils. Érebos's visage was stoic, aura tight and deflective. tending to his chest as best he could, Érebos groomed himself of the blood that dried over his front limbs fist. what a mess.. a bath was needed. but maybe he could wait till morning. not wanting to wake the queen of hell. or add any more stress to his day. weary and still lingering with the scent of aggression.

"talk" 'think'