His vision blurs into sparks of purple and white. Yellow flashes sporadically between the blobs and he's kicking even more furiously, bucking and snarling like a horrible beast. His silver brows stay knitted, tight and unfaltering through all the excitement.
He's losing. He's losing again and he'll die if he doesn't get some air soon.
Then, the fingers slacken and Nicholai breathes in sharply and pants. He pants because he's still going on the attack. Or trying to. His fingers dig weakly into any part of HUNK he can find and he pulls back his teeth and bares them. A wolf, a beast; a jackal. He's nothing more.
"I hate you," the Jackal barks through panted breath as he tries to bring HUNK down back into a scuffle. But the energy won't come. He's too lagged from the flight to do anything else.
"I hate all of you. All of you." He's almost whining now.