Hungry: Difference between revisions
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This constant |
This constant rumble... |
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... It lowers me to my bare instincts. The instincts to maim, to rend, to slash apart skin to reach flesh. Food. |
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Food. |
Food. |
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My stomach's crying to be filled. |
My stomach's crying to be filled. |
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I can't battle it. Not for much longer. I have the weapons to get it. I am built for the hunt. Built to get food. I can't see. I'm dizzy. Starved. I have to eat. Or I'll die. Have to get |
I can't battle it. Not for much longer. I have the weapons to get it. I am built for the hunt. Built to get food. I can't see. I'm dizzy. Starved. I have to eat. Or I'll die. Have to get food... |
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I take in the taste of fresh blood as it wets my dry tongue. I tremble, even as I gorge myself, getting the sticky red stuff all over my face. The flesh isn't even good, but I don't care, I must be sated. I use my blades to sever limbs, chewing through everything edible, even splintering thick bone. |
I take in the taste of fresh blood as it wets my dry tongue. I tremble, even as I gorge myself, getting the sticky red stuff all over my face. The flesh isn't even good, but I don't care, I must be sated. I use my blades to sever limbs, chewing through everything edible, even splintering thick bone. |
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