[Fighting, for Vander, is something that’s always had a rhythm to it. Timing your swings, perfecting the footwork to go along with it… there is a certain understated kind of grace to fighting with one’s fists, even despite how swift and brutal it can be. Suffice it to say, there’s not a trace of that elegance to be found in his beastly ferocity.
The brutality, though? It’s there in spades.
The tangle of fangs and claws that Vander and the bears have descended into is loud and ugly. His claws sink deeper into the sides of the one his attention is focused on grappling and he keeps pushing forward until the thing is forced to stumbled backward to the ground. There is a pleased growl that could almost be mistaken for a laugh and he forgoes his hold to instead put those claws to use in a volley of swings at the downed bear. But in so doing, he makes a perfect target of his back for its twin. The jolt pain as its claws sink into him is enough to get him rearing back, but it’s less stunning than it is more fuel to the fire urging him to fight, to draw blood.
He wheels around to lash out at the other bear. Its claws make a swing for his face then, but it turns into a near-miss that instead gives him the opportunity to sink his teeth into that outstretched arm. His jaws snap down tight and he’s beginning to yank with all his might—just as something comes flying in and crashes into his side hard.
Vander and the bear both hit the ground in a tangle of furry limbs, and he can hardly even tell who or what had been the cause of it outside of a glimpse of a decidedly human body amidst their flailing. The infuriated roar he vocalizes is oddly strained with the air half-knocked out of him from the impact, but it’s all the warning he gives before attempting to scramble back up to go after his newest attacker, jaws parted and aiming to seek purchase on unadorned flesh.]
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The brutality, though? It’s there in spades.
The tangle of fangs and claws that Vander and the bears have descended into is loud and ugly. His claws sink deeper into the sides of the one his attention is focused on grappling and he keeps pushing forward until the thing is forced to stumbled backward to the ground. There is a pleased growl that could almost be mistaken for a laugh and he forgoes his hold to instead put those claws to use in a volley of swings at the downed bear. But in so doing, he makes a perfect target of his back for its twin. The jolt pain as its claws sink into him is enough to get him rearing back, but it’s less stunning than it is more fuel to the fire urging him to fight, to draw blood.
He wheels around to lash out at the other bear. Its claws make a swing for his face then, but it turns into a near-miss that instead gives him the opportunity to sink his teeth into that outstretched arm. His jaws snap down tight and he’s beginning to yank with all his might—just as something comes flying in and crashes into his side hard.
Vander and the bear both hit the ground in a tangle of furry limbs, and he can hardly even tell who or what had been the cause of it outside of a glimpse of a decidedly human body amidst their flailing. The infuriated roar he vocalizes is oddly strained with the air half-knocked out of him from the impact, but it’s all the warning he gives before attempting to scramble back up to go after his newest attacker, jaws parted and aiming to seek purchase on unadorned flesh.]