One of these days he'll learn to hold on better. The thing is he got lazy, he was used to being lost in a crowd, an anonymous face in a pack. Hordes, now. A horde's great for safety in numbers...not so much if you want anything more than a few bites in before you get shouldered aside by some ex-linebacker with muscles still on his frame. Now R finds himself thinking he could've put on more muscle himself way back when he was alive. Shion probably wouldn't have gotten away if he had more weight, had better grabbing power, didn't let stuff like regret stop him from putting 100% into it.
Shion's blood is still glistening red on his chin when he hears a soft splashing, too focused to be another Dead stumbling around. R's head comes up from where he's been trying, badly, to get some cover under a thorny bush. Anything to keep that sky from crushing down on him. Coyote? He's starving enough to do coyote.
What he sees makes him lurch back to his feet. His mouth drops open hungrily. A lone Living man, male. Strange blue clothes that stood out against the desert. The human's on his knees at the edge of the watering hole, drinking greedily. Distracted. Still looked healthy to him. Okay, trying this again. Third time's the charm? (Is it the third time? R can't remember, parts of the Cornucopia blurring together into a gray fog).
R comes at Marius from behind, the sand helping to muffle the sound of his dragging footsteps. His hands come up and form claws. The zombie drops one shoulder, a desperate groaning ripping itself out of his throat as he barrels into his food and hopes he can get more than a taste-test this time.
I'll have R shuffling Marius into the water? :\a
One of these days he'll learn to hold on better. The thing is he got lazy, he was used to being lost in a crowd, an anonymous face in a pack. Hordes, now. A horde's great for safety in numbers...not so much if you want anything more than a few bites in before you get shouldered aside by some ex-linebacker with muscles still on his frame. Now R finds himself thinking he could've put on more muscle himself way back when he was alive. Shion probably wouldn't have gotten away if he had more weight, had better grabbing power, didn't let stuff like regret stop him from putting 100% into it.
Shion's blood is still glistening red on his chin when he hears a soft splashing, too focused to be another Dead stumbling around. R's head comes up from where he's been trying, badly, to get some cover under a thorny bush. Anything to keep that sky from crushing down on him. Coyote? He's starving enough to do coyote.
What he sees makes him lurch back to his feet. His mouth drops open hungrily. A lone Living man, male. Strange blue clothes that stood out against the desert. The human's on his knees at the edge of the watering hole, drinking greedily. Distracted. Still looked healthy to him. Okay, trying this again. Third time's the charm? (Is it the third time? R can't remember, parts of the Cornucopia blurring together into a gray fog).
R comes at Marius from behind, the sand helping to muffle the sound of his dragging footsteps. His hands come up and form claws. The zombie drops one shoulder, a desperate groaning ripping itself out of his throat as he barrels into his food and hopes he can get more than a taste-test this time.