"Blessed by a bitch from a bastard seed...

Victor begins to regain consciousness even as the sound of his brother's footsteps starts to recede into the distance. His memories are hazy, his mind still a jumbled mess as a confusion of scents, feelings and images suddenly crowd his thoughts; anger, pain, anguish, his rage towards Daken and that pang of fear as he realised that his nephew intended to target Mads, and then the unbearable agony as his clothes and skin were set alight. There was blackness for a short when his mind shut down, the loss of awareness, and then - confusingly - the comforting and familiar smell of Logan's presence, his limp and charred body somehow being jolted up and down before arriving here, here where Mads' scent is strongest, but there's also a hint of Daken's lingering musk and the faint trace of Logan, too.

It's all too much for Victor to take in at that moment. Just knowing that he's alive is enough, alive and lying here on what seems to be Mads' doorstep, his clothes, flesh and hair almost burned beyond recognition. He opens his mouth to try and call for his lover, but only a pained, animal cry comes out; blackened claws dig into the concrete as he reaches for the doorway, needing to know whether the shifter still lives. The feral knows that he can survive these wounds, that he will survive them, because he's strong and he's stubborn and he'll be damned if he won't get revenge for the pain which Daken will put him through. But Mads? Maybe Mads won't be so lucky. He tries to clutch at the doorway, to haul himself up and let himself into the house, but his muscles are still charred and wasted, his body a useless, crackling mess.

Closing his eyes, he howls.

((OOC: This happens shortly after Victor was set on fire by Daken, and Daken's subsequent visit to Mads' house.))

Post for sixwordstories, locked to notanalpha:

*walks in* ...is that a kitten?