[The initial set of tendrils don't quite get a grip in time to stop Whiskey from pouncing, but another set whips out to meet him. These ones aim for the front of his body, reaching for his shoulders and neck.]
[ the tendrils get around his neck but he's clinging to the tendrils as best as he can still, clawing as if trying to rip them open to, to tear and get inside ]
[The tendrils still look and feel like hair -- dozens, hundreds of thin strands packed together and moving as one. There's no meat or bone in there per se . . . yet it smells as appetizing as if there were. The individual strands break easily under Whiskey's claws, tangling in them or fluttering to the floor. But each of the coils of hair that make up J's body is thick enough that it's going to take a few good swipes each to sever them completely
Meanwhile, the tendrils around Whiskey's neck tighten, trying to get a firmer grip without actually cutting off his air. And, J's overall mass shrinks as even more reach out for Whiskey's front half, grabbing for shoulders and legs.]
[ Whisky hisses loud and angry as the tendrils tighten, though obviously that gets strained as air flow gets restricted, and his claws curl and tear into more tendrils even as his legs get somewhat more restrained; he can kick with them, try to free himself of the shadowy pieces but his main effort is trying to bear down into the mass ]
[Yes, good. Keep struggling toward that center. Look at that soft sleeping face dangling so close now.
Shreds of hair are still falling and tangling around them, but the tendrils that have already caught Whiskey curl tighter nonetheless. And, more than that, the blue eyes dotting those thick locks of hair roll and blink shut -- and open again as oblong mouths lined with white fangs. Time to start chewing.]
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Meanwhile, the tendrils around Whiskey's neck tighten, trying to get a firmer grip without actually cutting off his air. And, J's overall mass shrinks as even more reach out for Whiskey's front half, grabbing for shoulders and legs.]
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Shreds of hair are still falling and tangling around them, but the tendrils that have already caught Whiskey curl tighter nonetheless. And, more than that, the blue eyes dotting those thick locks of hair roll and blink shut -- and open again as oblong mouths lined with white fangs. Time to start chewing.]