Strike Exceptional success
As the man struggled on the ground, striking at the raven with desperate hands, the Strix persisted. Talons clung to the soft flesh of his face, the beak dogged as he pecked and pried at the soft ocular organ. He managed to get a solid grip on it with his beak, holding onto the eyeball. He tugged, once, twice, and then with a high pitched shriek, it ripped free. With the prize he'd wanted, the Strix hopped off the man's face, talons letting go and leaving bleeding gouges in his skin. He had to flap and hop out of the way of the man's hands, the withdrawal hardly peaceful.
Then, a familiar voice echoed in the dark space. Speaking his name, which had the Strix relatively relaxed as he flapped his wings and gained some height rather than remain on the ground and within reach of the man now missing an eye. The eye he had in his beak. He settled on a low brick wall, taking in the woman who'd been running from the man, the gun in her hands. A familiar woman.
He lowered the eye to grip it in his talons, holding off on consuming it like he wanted, as hungry as he felt with the soft tissue giving way under his beak and talons. With his beak clear, he spoke. “Agent,” the Strix intoned, darkly amused at the circumstance of their meeting. The man was shrieking and begging, blood blinding his remaining eye. “Not one of yours, I hope?” There was not a single ounce of regret in his voice. He'd already judged that the man had not been a friend of hers, which was why he'd made the spontaneous decision to do some preying of his own.
As the man struggled on the ground, striking at the raven with desperate hands, the Strix persisted. Talons clung to the soft flesh of his face, the beak dogged as he pecked and pried at the soft ocular organ. He managed to get a solid grip on it with his beak, holding onto the eyeball. He tugged, once, twice, and then with a high pitched shriek, it ripped free. With the prize he'd wanted, the Strix hopped off the man's face, talons letting go and leaving bleeding gouges in his skin. He had to flap and hop out of the way of the man's hands, the withdrawal hardly peaceful.
Then, a familiar voice echoed in the dark space. Speaking his name, which had the Strix relatively relaxed as he flapped his wings and gained some height rather than remain on the ground and within reach of the man now missing an eye. The eye he had in his beak. He settled on a low brick wall, taking in the woman who'd been running from the man, the gun in her hands. A familiar woman.
He lowered the eye to grip it in his talons, holding off on consuming it like he wanted, as hungry as he felt with the soft tissue giving way under his beak and talons. With his beak clear, he spoke. “Agent,” the Strix intoned, darkly amused at the circumstance of their meeting. The man was shrieking and begging, blood blinding his remaining eye. “Not one of yours, I hope?” There was not a single ounce of regret in his voice. He'd already judged that the man had not been a friend of hers, which was why he'd made the spontaneous decision to do some preying of his own.