The early winter day is surprisingly temperate and, with the higher than normal temperature, more prey animals can still be found out wandering the northern reaches.  Dark form slips through the underbrush as the cloudy sunlight finds its way down to lithe form, illuminating the purple on his coat as Ezekiel trails after a group of pronghorns.

Nose works as he deftly stalks around trunks while his paws hardly make a sound. The group of prey animals have paused in their wandering to gather around a small pool of water and quench their thirst. Downwind, Ezekiel comes to stop in a thicket, body crouched low to the ground as his eyes scan the group, finding a nice fat male that would fill the Syndicate’s bellies.

If only he had another helping paw.


"Speech!"

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Unfriendly on a good day, and too cold to even call this one average-- good fucking luck. Whatever, par for the course when it comes to life up north. Not like it would stop Riot from complaining, but that's good enough. Ears laid flat against her skull, hackles up, shoulders rolled forward and hunched beneath the coat she'd stolen from Kaino. Good enough. Head low to the ground, she picks up the pronghorn scent easily. Carefully tracking over the barren, snowy ground. Gaze scanning, slipping across the landscape-- she's not the only one hunting and she's not the only one after this herd. Cold gaze resting on her cousin with little more than an nod. Iscariot will operate only on the assumption that he sees, as she takes off after the herd. Cutting herself amongst them, creating chaos in an instant. If they're scattered and scrambling, at least one will fall-- her target will designate itself. From there, they can strike. "Riot"---"Kai"

A subtle movement off to the side has Ezekiel’s duel-toned gaze sliding over to where he spies the tiny form of his cousin, her determined eyes telling him everything he needs to know. A brief nod is given before they both break from cover, rushing toward the waiting herd. With a loud snarl, the pronghorn spook, heads shooting up and swiveling in their direction all while they turn to flee. The tiny woman is much faster than him and he tries to keep up with her but loses her for a moment in the mad scramble to get away.

Cursing inwardly, Zeke spies the fat male pronghorn he had zeroed in on before and moves to take up position on its left hind side. Already it is huffing and puffing, the extra weight it is carrying working against it. Trusting that the small woman is safe, he spares a glance to see if she has found her spot on the right side. If they can run it a little more, then the fat prey will tire and be easier to bring down… hopefully.


"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Safe, no, but she's smarter than these fucks. Snapping and snarling as she darts between their feet, gaze wild and brilliant. Throwing herself forward across the dead grass and light dusting of snow, watching the pronghorn trip over themselves and scatter in their confusion and fear. Fucking perfect, actually. Regaining her footing as the pronghorn falls to her cousin within the throng of activity, Iscariot is quick to join him. Teeth flashing, snarling and snapping. It's quick. It's more than quick, it's practiced and precise, as she begins to pick at the beast's hind leg. Coming up on its right side, Iscariot doesn't need to grab to take it out. No, any tripping is enough tripping, and she's ready.

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Thankfully, the small form reappears from among the chaos of hooves and he dips his head sharply as she races up the pronghorn’s right side. Head snaps forward, spine aligning as he gallops hard, nostrils flaring with each deep breath and he nears the front left shoulder. They work together, as if they have practiced this a hundred times. The tiny woman trips the pronghorn and it bellows in fear as Ezekiel leaps forward, jaws parted wide, saliva flying through the air as he reaches for and latches onto the doomed creature’s throat.

Tail snaps up over his spine as he pins the beast shoulder and tosses his head back, ripping the throat from the animal without a moment wasted. Hot blood arches through the air, pooling around the gaping hole in its neck, staining and slowly melting the snow under the onslaught of hot liquid. Blood stains his mouth as he grins devilishly, leering into the dying animal’s eye so that its last worldly view is of the beast that killed it.


"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Iscariot is quick, ruthless, villainous as she sinks her teeth into the prey animal. It's swift, at least. A quick death for her prey. It's the only kindness in Riot, especially when she's like this. A dog with a bone, the fat little pronghorn gripped in her jaws. Light leaving its eyes, and the beast falling at her hand. She's coming up victorious-- fuck it, Iscariot is coming up roses. Head tossing, blood dripping down her chin and pooling as it slips down her throat. Brilliant, beautiful, bloodstained. Bright red splashed across the snow and sitting metallic on her tongue. Say what you will about the hand grenade of a girl-- she's effective.

table coding by bunni ♥