[And the arrow strikes home. Giovanni turns then, sharply, head whipping around in a predatory animal gesture, and half the man's throat comes with him, muscle and gristle and viscera still smattering his face and caught up in his teeth, his eyes made hard with something blank and terrible. It's visible in him, the fact that there's nothing going through his mind besides base and ugly instinct.
He drops his prey to the ground, body still twitching and slickly drowning in it's own blood, and he takes a moment to yank the arrow from his thigh with no more care than someone removing a splinter. There's the hiss and sizzle of kinetic energy, bluegrey plumes of rising smoke, his body knitting itself back together quicksharp and leaving him perfectly unharmed. He smiles then, though it's barely a smile at all, something wide and awful and raw, something inhuman.
He's launches himself across the distance that stands between them, movements swift and fluid and unnatural as the rest of him.]
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He drops his prey to the ground, body still twitching and slickly drowning in it's own blood, and he takes a moment to yank the arrow from his thigh with no more care than someone removing a splinter. There's the hiss and sizzle of kinetic energy, bluegrey plumes of rising smoke, his body knitting itself back together quicksharp and leaving him perfectly unharmed. He smiles then, though it's barely a smile at all, something wide and awful and raw, something inhuman.
He's launches himself across the distance that stands between them, movements swift and fluid and unnatural as the rest of him.]