Black Panther Mask And Claws の小説・ストーリー

We are calling on the Storks with your song. Through the lopped-off leather top of his mask, I see that his black hair’s a mix of Mohawk and dreads, with the strip of hair in the middle hanging down in matted coils and the sides not shaven but cut short and dyed silver. I also see, through the shattered spectacles and enlarged eye holes of the mask, eyeliner that’s sharp to the point of being reptilian. Even the eyebrows are slanted and pointed upwards.

Suddenly, the cubicle door flung toward me; I dodged. It felt like something was on my face. I faced the mirror and found myself wearing a black mask. The mask exuded a sophisticated expression and had a crown-like edge on top. As I held up my hand, I realised that I was wielding a whip. The handle felt dark: warm and cold. It’s like holding ice under boiling water. The whip itself was made of black material. It glittered like glass crystals, felt like silver, and patterned like scales made of thorns.

The wild wolf in me had no mercy. “Think hard about what you’re doing, man. And watch out for the signs! They give you away. Look at your hands!” I realized I had them clenched into tight fists. The hair had grown, and the claws were sticking out more. They didn’t look like hands anymore. “Do you think I care?” And in saying that, I didn’t wait for Declan’s next line. Instead, I suppressed my beast. It was neither the time nor the place to make it known.

’ I asked myself. ‘Not those blue gems,’ Melora answered. They finally agreed. I had already seen Ian’s tattoo but Cannon’s own changed the game. It was a lion, with its mane spreading out and gem-like eyes shining. Its jaw and teeth were profound—looked like it was roaring—and the design was similar to Ian’s but unique in its way. Then there was Kane. I’m not a zoologist but I knew that was a Black Panther. It had blue eyes like its brothers and was fierce. Its whiskers were lowered and it looked like it was ready to bite someone.

It threw them up and landing on the ground the men where in pool of blood. The spectators shouted and began to run while some stubborn ones still stood. A huge Black creature emerged out of the truck with smoke. It was damp black with fangs and tentacles all around it waist, it has the hairs of a Lycan and also the fangs too but had a blue eyes of a werewolf but also had claws at the edge of the tentacle and also a tail which had the colour of a kanima.

Sometimes she saw a little dark blue in the depths of his eyes but from a distance they appeared the darkest shade of brown ever, bordering on black. With black hair he would look… An image flashed inside her head of Justice with black hair. Frightening. Scary. ferocious. Justice with light hair did look more human and less likely to scare someone. It makes sense. Jessie had slept with a man changed with panther DNA. It explained the purring, the catlike eyes and his roaring after sex. He’d shredded the bedding and scored the mattress with his nails. Claws. Panthers were dangerous animals. Maybe he has good reason to fear hurting me.

A figure loomed there, draped in a black cloak, a grotesque human skin mask on his face, and the emblem of a dark maple leaf on his chest… The Black Maple Master!

I purred, my voice laced in sarcasm as I pouted my lips. “Aww... Poor, lonely Enzo.” He scowled, his deep voice cutting through the air. “Wear your damn mask.” I rolled my eyes and held my mask. It had a peacock design, with feathers affixed to the sides. Golden detailing lined the edges, giving it a delicate yet exotic look. I put it on, and it shielded my features, except for my eyes and lips. I turned to look at him. His mask was the design of a wolf, its expression a scowl just like the one he carried permanently on his face. The only covered parts of his face were his forehead and eyelids. His eyes, nose, and mouth were exposed.

Her eyes are practically red with rage and the bulging veins on her clenched hands assure me I will pay for this. Yes. ME. No one else. Direct all your hate and frustrations to me. I'll take it, all of it, and I'll survive. Just like before. I'll survive despite you all. Now I'm staring straight at Talia with her folded arms and her stoic gaze, but I see that her claws are out and piercing into her elbow, causing a small trail of blood, dropping on the side of her stone seat. That makes me so fucking happy, I can barely control myself.

The sight was surreal: the blade angling grotesquely, the leather pommel wet, the handle slick in the attacker’s hand. I turned my head slowly and locked on the man who had driven it home. One of Damian's men — the same one — stood there, face a mask of triumph and panic. Instinct took over. With a single, furious motion I slashed across his throat with my claws. Black blood sprayed, his knees folded, and he went down like a marionette with snapped strings.