[ thank god, that might have skewered him wide open (and even then he'd survive, from the look of things?). it's a challenge to stagger when he's bent up like a disjointed doll stuck in terrible angles, viscous blood oozing out of cuts, scrapes and broken flesh where bone has pierced. it's a little more distressing when it doesn't hurt as much as his mind tells him it would, but there's so much rush that jayce doesn't register. he just moves and keeps moving as much as his mangled frame allows. his hesitation, however brief, comes when he's at a crossroads to either return to his hammer, or the splayed apypos corpse. the stench of gore is phenomenal. it catches jayce's attention now as it pools and beckons him. this weak body . . . craves nourishment. he can't fight or even think to survive if he's so broken. ]
. . . Damn it—
[ jayce diverges from his first path, holding onto not just a primal urging but, perhaps, quick-thinking rationalizing— seeing serph power up from a feast, and remember what it was like to sink his lips into viktor's wrists, how he felt— it could save him. this— this wasn't mindless. he needed this. the armored bull is all force and no thought, an easy icicle through its flailing head and countering paralytic breath. the grassland creatures will not cease, even if that one is gone. if there is a pause, for them, eerie and beyond what nature's silence should be, it won't even be long lived. ]
Serph, I need— I need to eat, and then— [ his cry chokes through the disquiet groans of his movement, dropping to his kneecaps upon the open belly of the creature. a switch flips. he's starving, he's needing. he doesn't care. ] We run. For the shields—
[ before the voices yell at him again, before the monsters corner him. before he's trapped beyond salvation that even serph could not provide. enough of that, though— there were louder things screaming at him. jayce reaches within the hot cadavar and sinks his arms elbow deep into viscera. warm, inviting. it welcomes him in, fingers frantically searching and digging for an ample supply, a grip around a nugget-shaped offal padded underneath the ridges of the creature's spine. he rips a kidney from its ligaments, arteries and veins, wasting no time at all in bringing the organ to his bearded maw. he finally sinks his teeth with bated breath, until his gums submerge in squelching tissue, his tongue hits torrid spews of fluids and all he knows is the mindless, eye rolling buzz of satisfaction. down his throat. in his bones. a fire in in his icy belly—
and his injuries, healing. his fractures, popping, straightening. coming undone. ]
cw: they're hungry
. . . Damn it—
[ jayce diverges from his first path, holding onto not just a primal urging but, perhaps, quick-thinking rationalizing— seeing serph power up from a feast, and remember what it was like to sink his lips into viktor's wrists, how he felt— it could save him. this— this wasn't mindless. he needed this. the armored bull is all force and no thought, an easy icicle through its flailing head and countering paralytic breath. the grassland creatures will not cease, even if that one is gone. if there is a pause, for them, eerie and beyond what nature's silence should be, it won't even be long lived. ]
Serph, I need— I need to eat, and then— [ his cry chokes through the disquiet groans of his movement, dropping to his kneecaps upon the open belly of the creature. a switch flips. he's starving, he's needing. he doesn't care. ] We run. For the shields—
[ before the voices yell at him again, before the monsters corner him. before he's trapped beyond salvation that even serph could not provide. enough of that, though— there were louder things screaming at him. jayce reaches within the hot cadavar and sinks his arms elbow deep into viscera. warm, inviting. it welcomes him in, fingers frantically searching and digging for an ample supply, a grip around a nugget-shaped offal padded underneath the ridges of the creature's spine. he rips a kidney from its ligaments, arteries and veins, wasting no time at all in bringing the organ to his bearded maw. he finally sinks his teeth with bated breath, until his gums submerge in squelching tissue, his tongue hits torrid spews of fluids and all he knows is the mindless, eye rolling buzz of satisfaction. down his throat. in his bones. a fire in in his icy belly—
and his injuries, healing. his fractures, popping, straightening. coming undone. ]