Day 3 Evening

[Clownpiece]

Before the F2F

There was nothing quite like the feeling of being on the edge of a storm. The air itself beginning to feel lighter, creating a sense of foreboding. Most creatures, from all walks of life, knew to beware the growing dark clouds on the horizon. They knew they should hunker down for the night, safely out of the reach of lightning and wind.

The green-tinted sky meant much different to the spirit of the storm. Deep clouds crawled their way across the heavens, the dread they inspired in others, instead planting a pleasant feeling within the monster. Plant life crunched beneath his shoes, his tread now holding a renewed vigor. Hungry and destructive, the storm given life pushed through the bushes.
His luck was beginning to change after all. There, accompanied by what was perhaps her allies, was his prey, in all her red brilliance. She was still injured, and now there was no gun around to save her. The scent of wounds, of pain, of fear hung heavily over the area, irresistible even at this distance. She was his.

After the F2F

“Ugh...” Somerled groaned, the eternal pounding in his head making his vision dance. In and out it faded, clearing up ever so slowly. Though his sight steadily returned, in no particular hurry, what little it did reveal didn’t answer any of his questions. Greens and browns filled his vision, revealing a world of sideways grass and brush. Several seconds passed before his scrambled brain came to the conclusion that he was lying face down on the ground.

Slowly, the monster worked his hands underneath his body, and pushed himself up shakily. Every inch he rose brought a new throb to the pain in his head, until he was finally high enough that he could sit upright. He tried to recall exactly what had happened, but little came through the fog of his migraine. A familiar, damnable rumbling was what spurred his memory back into action, protests of a gut that demanded a meal. But the pain, the craving that had been driving him mad earlier, was much weaker than before. Had he gotten a taste of someone? Enough of a bite to stave off hunger for now?

“Shit, Sonny’s gonna have a fucking field day...” Somerled mumbled slowly, voice slurring. He had called upon his other half twice since the fight alongside Amaterasu. Both times in a maddened frenzy to eat. Two times the sun spirit could have just outright refused to combust. Was his getting a meal that important? Sonny wouldn’t have had him eat someone just because the storm spirit was hungry. His other half, the well-adjusted monster he was, wasn’t fond of Somerled’s rampages. There must have been some reason for his aid.

“Ah shit...” the realisation came slowly, surfacing through his murky thoughts. “Sonny’s gonna fucking kill me when this is all done with.” He pushed himself to his feet with all the haste he could manage. “Warlock, magician, whatever. Find, kill, eat.” The monster muttered, casting a glance down to his side. Fortunately, the whip was still there, he hadn’t dropped it in his madness.

“Alright, Sonny,” the slurring was almost completely gone, but he still spoke slowly. “I’ve got a few hours left. That helped,” he paused for a moment as he wiped the blood of his mouth, “but not enough. It’s me here, not you. There’s only one way this can end.” The monster murmured under his breath, footsteps starting up again in a rhythmic, solemn tread.