[There will be time for apologies and/or excuses later. Wolfwood generally operates on asking for forgiveness (if even that) as opposed to permission, and he also had a hunch that unless he could shoot this thing in the head, it wasn't going to stop. And considering the fact that regular bullets would have been inaccurate, not to mention dangerous when it is a machine gun...the laser was what he opted to go with. A miracle, then, that it actually worked.
The beast falls on top of Wolfwood, the jaws still affixed firmly to his shoulder. His left arm, the one that's taken the brunt of the injury, is nearly completely numb from the agony at this point, but he has to get it off of him. He wills himself to move as he struggles in the snow, his right arm coming around to grab the top jaw while his left weakly fits fingers beneath the bottom.
He pulls, and the sound he makes is not unlike a wild animal as he roars through the pain to get the beast's jaws open. There's a grotesque snap of bone as he breaks the jaw entirely, the mostly-decapitated head finally flopping onto the snow beside him. Only then is Wolfwood able to fall down onto his back entirely, his hands trembling and covered in blood. Gashes from the teeth and thorns rent through his palms and fingers, he fumbles inside his jacket for one of the vials there, several others spilling out with a soft clatter against each other into the snow. Eventually he manages to get a hold of one and break it with his teeth, ingesting the liquid in the vial before spitting the glass out.
He's barely been here a day, and he's gone through one of his five. Yet, even as he lays prone in the snow and expects his wounds to start healing with the usual telltale hiss and roil of steam off his body...nothing happens.
cw: breaking bones, drug use??
The beast falls on top of Wolfwood, the jaws still affixed firmly to his shoulder. His left arm, the one that's taken the brunt of the injury, is nearly completely numb from the agony at this point, but he has to get it off of him. He wills himself to move as he struggles in the snow, his right arm coming around to grab the top jaw while his left weakly fits fingers beneath the bottom.
He pulls, and the sound he makes is not unlike a wild animal as he roars through the pain to get the beast's jaws open. There's a grotesque snap of bone as he breaks the jaw entirely, the mostly-decapitated head finally flopping onto the snow beside him. Only then is Wolfwood able to fall down onto his back entirely, his hands trembling and covered in blood. Gashes from the teeth and thorns rent through his palms and fingers, he fumbles inside his jacket for one of the vials there, several others spilling out with a soft clatter against each other into the snow. Eventually he manages to get a hold of one and break it with his teeth, ingesting the liquid in the vial before spitting the glass out.
He's barely been here a day, and he's gone through one of his five. Yet, even as he lays prone in the snow and expects his wounds to start healing with the usual telltale hiss and roil of steam off his body...nothing happens.
Nothing fucking happens.]