Trust me, you are nothing but another weak animal minding the strongest whip
Prone, she lay before him, bloody and bruised and agonized and defeated. Her whimpers, her sobs, her tempered rage - it was an exquisite elixir, there was no denying it. The rock's edge, sticky and so gorgeous, bit into her flesh, rendered it so easily as she screamed beneath him. Her tears and screams were met with dominating silence from the massive beast before her... oh, how grossly she had overestimated her own abilities.
"Only you are to blame for your arrogance," came the growl, low and deep into her ear. "Never forget that, stormsinger."
As the darkness swallowed her whole, as the frigid air wrapped her in its embrace, as the snow seeped red with her blood.. he towered over her, his shadow engulfing the bat. She was picturesque in her weakness, it almost made him pity her... such a small, feeble creature who only thought she had the gumption to take him on. In his teke he grasped two things: the rock, and a feather. The weapon that carved the tender flesh of her neck, he would fashion into a blade - a blade that he would brandish upon their next meeting, a blade he would mock her with. The feather — virgin ivory at its tip, fading into the color of rich espresso — was plucked from the heap that was left of her crippled wing, stained in coagulating blood.
"You should learn how to pick your battles better," came the mocking jab at the unconscious pegasus. With no more words and the two trophies of his victory, the Titan left the Steppe, coated in blood, frost, sweat .. nerves alit with static, white noise.
"Only you are to blame for your arrogance," came the growl, low and deep into her ear. "Never forget that, stormsinger."
As the darkness swallowed her whole, as the frigid air wrapped her in its embrace, as the snow seeped red with her blood.. he towered over her, his shadow engulfing the bat. She was picturesque in her weakness, it almost made him pity her... such a small, feeble creature who only thought she had the gumption to take him on. In his teke he grasped two things: the rock, and a feather. The weapon that carved the tender flesh of her neck, he would fashion into a blade - a blade that he would brandish upon their next meeting, a blade he would mock her with. The feather — virgin ivory at its tip, fading into the color of rich espresso — was plucked from the heap that was left of her crippled wing, stained in coagulating blood.
"You should learn how to pick your battles better," came the mocking jab at the unconscious pegasus. With no more words and the two trophies of his victory, the Titan left the Steppe, coated in blood, frost, sweat .. nerves alit with static, white noise.
[ please tag @Torstein in all replies ]
I have three eyes
TWO TO LOOK ONE TO SEE
