There's something wrong here. It's telling in that first instant of impact; his quarry's skinny but not emaciated, not as near to death as that featherweight implies.
And he's not fighting, damn him, he's squirming but not struggling like he wants to live. (He's undead, too--but he's got a pulse, drumming loud enough to hear--he's breathing, but he's not striking back. For all the good it would do him but--he's not even trying.)
Illarion flips Volk onto his stomach, dragging an arm up behind the human's back. Straddles Volk's hips, pins his legs with greater weight.
"Talk," he snarls, inches from an ear.
(There's something wrong here. He's not in Locusts' Court anymore. He could walk away.
Days into actual freedom and he's already got a terrified civilian on the ground. He's already considering tearing some hapless innocent open to count the missing organs.)
cw: casual vivisection thoughts
And he's not fighting, damn him, he's squirming but not struggling like he wants to live. (He's undead, too--but he's got a pulse, drumming loud enough to hear--he's breathing, but he's not striking back. For all the good it would do him but--he's not even trying.)
Illarion flips Volk onto his stomach, dragging an arm up behind the human's back. Straddles Volk's hips, pins his legs with greater weight.
"Talk," he snarls, inches from an ear.
(There's something wrong here. He's not in Locusts' Court anymore. He could walk away.
Days into actual freedom and he's already got a terrified civilian on the ground. He's already considering tearing some hapless innocent open to count the missing organs.)