[The creature that rushes by ahead of her is no animal: nor is it a mere ayakashi. It's badly wounded, with blood and purplish ichor streaming from a dozen cuts and the ragged stumps of arms that spring from a blackened, lava-glowing body all the way up to the purpled, glutinous flesh of a torso. Despite the injuries, though, there's still some human skin visible in tiny slivers across the ayakashi's monstrous body. Its head swivels toward her as she approaches, and one of its intact limbs lashes out in her direction, spikes tearing through the air with brutal speed.
It's not stopping. It's not even really fighting.
It needs refuge, a place to coil and nurse its wounds, and without even stopping to see if it has wounded its target, it turns away, lunging forward as though diving, and disappears into the soil with a graceful arc of spiked limbs flourishing behind it and vanishing in turn.]
no subject
It's not stopping. It's not even really fighting.
It needs refuge, a place to coil and nurse its wounds, and without even stopping to see if it has wounded its target, it turns away, lunging forward as though diving, and disappears into the soil with a graceful arc of spiked limbs flourishing behind it and vanishing in turn.]