He presses his mouth together grimly though, hearing Viktor wracked by coughs again as he balls his hands into fists at his side. This is bad. It's really bad to try and fight here around Viktor, but there isn't much of a choice. Escaping isn't an option for him either, not now that there's a beast in front of him, not when it's one with—
He breathes out, in a calm and steadying sort of way. Just for a moment, like finding some inner serenity before he raises his head and his eye focused in on the bloated shark-like remains of a person — and then he's leapt forward in a rustle of luminescence that leaves fragments of featherlike light in the air. Like snowflakes in his wake, in a rush of air that smells clean and wintery, thin and faintly ozone like an approaching storm.
Or like magic.
A magic that settles around his shoulders in the form of a giant feathered cowl that sits like condensed moonlight, trailing off into a massive cloak that ends in long feathered edges like half-formed wings. The effect multiplied by having leapt clear above and beyond the beast, seeming to perch for a moment as lightly as a moth against the side of the building overhead in complete defiance to gravity.
Or that his weight is also held in place by the massive clawed hand he has for his left arm now, pale golden-white glowing claws as large as a man's forearm biting into the brickwork behind him. Beautifully delicate and wickedly sharp, like crystalized paleblood itself, and adorned in gold and with a crown around his wrist. ]
Please forgive me— [ It's still very gentle, his voice.
Apologetic, even as he brings his clawed hand up as it suffuses with a golden-white light -- and drops down on it like a stone palm first. ]
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He presses his mouth together grimly though, hearing Viktor wracked by coughs again as he balls his hands into fists at his side. This is bad. It's really bad to try and fight here around Viktor, but there isn't much of a choice. Escaping isn't an option for him either, not now that there's a beast in front of him, not when it's one with—
He breathes out, in a calm and steadying sort of way. Just for a moment, like finding some inner serenity before he raises his head and his eye focused in on the bloated shark-like remains of a person — and then he's leapt forward in a rustle of luminescence that leaves fragments of featherlike light in the air. Like snowflakes in his wake, in a rush of air that smells clean and wintery, thin and faintly ozone like an approaching storm.
Or like magic.
A magic that settles around his shoulders in the form of a giant feathered cowl that sits like condensed moonlight, trailing off into a massive cloak that ends in long feathered edges like half-formed wings. The effect multiplied by having leapt clear above and beyond the beast, seeming to perch for a moment as lightly as a moth against the side of the building overhead in complete defiance to gravity.
Or that his weight is also held in place by the massive clawed hand he has for his left arm now, pale golden-white glowing claws as large as a man's forearm biting into the brickwork behind him. Beautifully delicate and wickedly sharp, like crystalized paleblood itself, and adorned in gold and with a crown around his wrist. ]
Please forgive me— [ It's still very gentle, his voice.
Apologetic, even as he brings his clawed hand up as it suffuses with a golden-white light -- and drops down on it like a stone palm first. ]
—for this!