Date: 2009-10-29 09:16 pm (UTC)
Oh no you don't, Mr. Sark.

The newly-dead, still-smoldering corpse wrenches to its feet and plows after him. It's fast. It runs on three legs, on two, rolls and trips and shambles its way between Sark and escape. Its mouth flaps as it moves, its limbs, when not in motion, sag against their new master's control. One of the legs breaks when it stumbles and flails through the air, spattering oily blood across the pavement.

"Now, now, Julian," Den says. He's trying to and for the most part succeeding in hiding the strain of manipulating two complex bodies at once. The other is on limp patrol between him and the remaining three hounds. "One might think you didn't enjoy my company."
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Julian Sark

May 2018

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