Damien
and every demon wants his pound of flesh
but i like to keep some things to myself
but i like to keep some things to myself
For a moment it was like trying to stop the world from turning. Every muscle in Damien’s body screamed under the strain, his boots grinding trenches into the snow as the bear’s mass bore down. His shoulder flared white-hot, and the air left his lungs in a rough grunt that turned to steam between his teeth. The mountain didn’t move. It absorbed.
“Shit,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the storm of fur pressing him down.
He did the only thing a man could do when pinned under something bigger than sense—he slipped sideways out of it. Dropped, turned with the shove instead of against it. The snow became an ally for a heartbeat, slick under his boots as he twisted free from the worst of the pressure. His hand dragged through thick fur, using Noah’s motion to sling himself around rather than fight it.
He tried to draw back quick, breath tearing in his chest, frost stinging his face. His stance was low, wary. Smart. The kind of posture that said he’d learned from the first hit.
“Shit,” he muttered, half to himself, half to the storm of fur pressing him down.
He did the only thing a man could do when pinned under something bigger than sense—he slipped sideways out of it. Dropped, turned with the shove instead of against it. The snow became an ally for a heartbeat, slick under his boots as he twisted free from the worst of the pressure. His hand dragged through thick fur, using Noah’s motion to sling himself around rather than fight it.
He tried to draw back quick, breath tearing in his chest, frost stinging his face. His stance was low, wary. Smart. The kind of posture that said he’d learned from the first hit.
[training 2/4]
