Ooc: Not for kiddies, violence and medical situation, it has to get out of my system. (Blame it on THE THING)
:violence:
The snow was slowly seeping down from the clouds as the grey skies kept watch over the earth below. The outcroppings of rock were covered in snow, the earth was still as a stone, silence reigning over the land. Vultures were floating overhead, indicating a fresh kill. But it was not to be so since the man was still alive but not kicking.
Indeed, the man was laying still in a darkneed snow, red slowing tinting the white pureness around him. His clothes were torned and dirtied, showing what had been skin and fur underneat. He had been beaten badly, a racist vampire had decided that the brown haired man wasn't to live to see the next day.
Claw wounds were all over his back an torso while a knife had been inbebbed in his side. There was a large gash on his temple, but it was not deep enough to show the bone. The knife was still there, only the hilt showing between two of his ribs. It was fortunate that particular wound was not bleeding inside, instead it was bleeding from inside out.
His stormy grey eyes reflected the weather overhead as he watched the world in front of his face with a glassy gaze. He was laying on his back, one arm laying across his stomach the other laying in the snow on the side of him. One leg was obviously broken, lying at an odd angle while being stretched in front of him.
The other leg was bent, his foot touching his other knee. He was about to die, he knew it, well, he would if he didn't get immediate radical medical attention. He wore a long tan coat, but there wasn't much more than remained of his clothing. It was not to say that he didn't wear anything, just that the rags couldn't be named as clothes anymore.
There was a constant buzz in his ears since the vampire had knocked his head against a nearby rock, and he tried as well as possible not to fall asleep or unconscious or he would not wake again. The reason he had yet to freeze to death was his thin but dense fur, it still kept him somewhat hot in the cold weather.
It hadn't helped when the blade and claws had ripped through his skin however and it left him feeling more than a bit vulnerable. His vision was shifting as if he had been standing on a boat and it was greatly disturbing for both his mind and his stomach.
:violence:
The snow was slowly seeping down from the clouds as the grey skies kept watch over the earth below. The outcroppings of rock were covered in snow, the earth was still as a stone, silence reigning over the land. Vultures were floating overhead, indicating a fresh kill. But it was not to be so since the man was still alive but not kicking.
Indeed, the man was laying still in a darkneed snow, red slowing tinting the white pureness around him. His clothes were torned and dirtied, showing what had been skin and fur underneat. He had been beaten badly, a racist vampire had decided that the brown haired man wasn't to live to see the next day.
Claw wounds were all over his back an torso while a knife had been inbebbed in his side. There was a large gash on his temple, but it was not deep enough to show the bone. The knife was still there, only the hilt showing between two of his ribs. It was fortunate that particular wound was not bleeding inside, instead it was bleeding from inside out.
His stormy grey eyes reflected the weather overhead as he watched the world in front of his face with a glassy gaze. He was laying on his back, one arm laying across his stomach the other laying in the snow on the side of him. One leg was obviously broken, lying at an odd angle while being stretched in front of him.
The other leg was bent, his foot touching his other knee. He was about to die, he knew it, well, he would if he didn't get immediate radical medical attention. He wore a long tan coat, but there wasn't much more than remained of his clothing. It was not to say that he didn't wear anything, just that the rags couldn't be named as clothes anymore.
There was a constant buzz in his ears since the vampire had knocked his head against a nearby rock, and he tried as well as possible not to fall asleep or unconscious or he would not wake again. The reason he had yet to freeze to death was his thin but dense fur, it still kept him somewhat hot in the cold weather.
It hadn't helped when the blade and claws had ripped through his skin however and it left him feeling more than a bit vulnerable. His vision was shifting as if he had been standing on a boat and it was greatly disturbing for both his mind and his stomach.