[ all that exists is sinew. engorged tissue. spurting meat. the wet spate of hot, hot blood between his teeth, on his tongue and down his throat, pleasuring every cell in his body and healing every freshly broken bone, every oozing gash in his undead corpse. jayce leaves not a piece of the kidney behind as its torn by its thick arteries and flacid veins, stringy ligament and calibrous and lush with lifeforce. he takes more with a hand elbow deep in gore, whatever he could find and yank and pry to his maw to fill the void. there was a daft difference in meals, he quickly finds when there is one pang missing— this monster replenishes him, feels good, but it loses in comparison to the shimmer fused blood that made his eyes roll back with ecstacy. it did not offer him the same rush, no— but this was only his second meal, and he might as well be considered an infant draugr figuring out his tastes.
it was good. powering. it was what he needed. that's all that mattered as his wandering eyes find serph mutilating his own monster catch with formidable savagery. jayce chews very little, swallowing chunks as they're allowed to fit and go down, and doing so now with rushing urgency. his vertebra are aligned, his arms and legs fully functional save for the gained disability he already had on his left, braced leg. his open side, mended.
he's ready to lift himself, hobble to his hammer in a mess of blood that dirties his face, beard and hands— and he moves, as fast as he could on the legs he has, with monsters clustering right behind them. ]
no subject
it was good. powering. it was what he needed. that's all that mattered as his wandering eyes find serph mutilating his own monster catch with formidable savagery. jayce chews very little, swallowing chunks as they're allowed to fit and go down, and doing so now with rushing urgency. his vertebra are aligned, his arms and legs fully functional save for the gained disability he already had on his left, braced leg. his open side, mended.
he's ready to lift himself, hobble to his hammer in a mess of blood that dirties his face, beard and hands— and he moves, as fast as he could on the legs he has, with monsters clustering right behind them. ]