[Judged] I've got no more tears or explanations;

[Marisol]

hallelujah
i found
jesus when
i drowned;

He loves her. Ha! Love. Neither of them knows anything about that, she’s sure. Love. If she could read his thoughts, she’d laugh. Almost she does, when she sees his wide, wolfish grin and hears his breathless chuckle in the warm air. 

But even in a dance, there has to be some element of seriousness; maybe it is Marisol’s duty to provide it. 

She is disappointed but not surprised that he makes no effort to block her move. Either she was right or he is dull, and in a place like this the difference hardly matters. 

Her heart pounds against her teeth, and her hoofsteps crack against the dirt, and then, sudden as dying, they are colliding, and the breath is smashed from Mari’s chest. Whoomp. Marisol’s teeth snap together on impact. The meeting of their bodies is less sacred than a prayer, but just as satisfying. Adrenaline spikes her racing blood with something cold like fear. And by the time Tucson stumbles, Marisol’s whole body is buzzing with sweet, sick satisfaction; she sees him hit the ground and her whole face splits into a ravenous smile.

As quick as they collided, they’re off again, or so she thinks. 

Satisfaction rumbles in her bones. But it’s short-lived, ill-fated. Hardly a stride is taken before Marisol squeals in unexpected pain. There is a white-hot, stinging slash of hooves against skin, and she nearly crumples under the pressure of the landing blow. Fucker.

No time to waste, there’s blood to spill: riveted with panic, Marisol grinds her jaw against the ache in her spine, and with iron effort, she twists back toward him instead of away. How close they are now! She can see the whorls of his dark hair, the smell of salt shivering across his skin. For a moment she wants to say something in response to his quip.

But no, no, there are far more important things.

WIth a snarl, she digs her hooves deeper into the dirt and lunges forward. Her ears fall back against her coarse hair, her lips curl up, and then with her too-sharp teeth bared she is reaching, reaching, reaching for his throat like a predator with no other aims.

“Speaking.”

credits