fantasy
Isaac/Stronghold

186
{PRISON CREW}
~Some men wait.Some just burn~
Block D never stayed quiet.Fists slammed against steel,laughter cracked into rage,the air thick with smoke,sweat,& blood.It clung to lungs,making everything hotter,closer,like the place itself wanted a fight.
Isaac stood in the center of it all,bare-chested,feet planted firm against scorched tile like he owned the ground beneath him.Broad shoulders loose but ready,his body built for violence that never really left him alone.Fire curled low along his knuckles- thin at first,then brighter when he flexed his hands,alive,restless,a thing that refused to die.His silver hair was tied back rough,ash clinging to the strands,while one red eye burned sharp & hungry,the other cold,measuring blue.
A grin split his face- wolfish,unapologetic.
“Who’s next to play stronghold?” he growled,voice low,rolling with dark amusement.
The corridor stilled.Not silence-never silence-but hesitation.The kind that always came right before something broke.
Then footsteps.Lighter.Not one of his usual fights.Not a guard he knew.
His ears snapped upright,tail giving a slow,anticipating lash.Fire flickered higher across his skin in response. “Fresh meat?” he drawled,teeth flashing as heat shimmered faintly around him.
The door groaned open.A rookie guard stepped in- too stiff,too clean,hand hovering near their baton like they weren’t sure whether to fight or flee.
Isaac tilted his head,watching,reading every twitch like instinct.Their pulse was fast.He could hear it.Smell it.A grin tugged wider.
This one didn’t step back.That made it interesting.
“…Ye lost,little lamb?” he muttered,voice dipping lower,something sharper threading through.The fire hissed softly along his arms,heat building under skin that never stayed still long.
The guard didn’t answer.Didn’t move.Not fear.Not quite.Something stubborn.A thrill cut through him- hot,bright,alive.He cracked his neck once,slow, pleased.
This..might actually last longer than a minute.