like having your throat cut,
just that fast
just that fast
There is a moment, before the gong, where she fluctuates between something civilized and something monstrous, grotesque and hungry (so, so hungry). There is a memory of dust and iron hanging on the back of her teeth when she scrapes her tongue against the ivory. Every drop of her blood hums like a tuning fork struck against a bell-chime. The gold of her gaze turns molten, and furious, and more like a solar flare than a look.
She snarls with teeth, and a spit, and blood dotted on her lips like embedded rubies.
I could devour you, that look of teeth, rubies, and spit says, and you would beg me for the blackness of my touch.
Her wings rise, rise, rise at her sides as he pulls away. Her shadow stretches long, and low, and of a black as thick and dark as oil. That looks waivers between language, fury, and a wrath deep as the sea. The bone of her jaw aches as her teeth drag arcane lines down the muscles of his neck. And the look in his eyes, that hint of darkness calling her home, sends her careening over the cliff side of memory.
By the time he turns to rear she is already curling her wings forward like twin scythes. Her body curls backward with the movement. Dust billows around them, turning her glow to sunset instead of solar flare. His hooves find only feathers instead of flesh. Feathers flutter down around their hooves and land in a pattern that will haunt her dreams. The wounds on her shoulder ache with the force of her movement and she welcomes the sting and burn. It settles her from the cliff side and bleats lamb-like against her hunger.
Whatever is left of the monster she's almost become, blinks and retreats as the gong vibrates deep into her aching bones.
But when the dust settles, and they pull away from each other, their shadows still stretch long and low to meet each other. Her golden gaze still flickers and flashes like a solar flare reaching for a star-dream. And her smile still speaks of teeth, and rubies, and spit.
@Dune
She snarls with teeth, and a spit, and blood dotted on her lips like embedded rubies.
I could devour you, that look of teeth, rubies, and spit says, and you would beg me for the blackness of my touch.
Her wings rise, rise, rise at her sides as he pulls away. Her shadow stretches long, and low, and of a black as thick and dark as oil. That looks waivers between language, fury, and a wrath deep as the sea. The bone of her jaw aches as her teeth drag arcane lines down the muscles of his neck. And the look in his eyes, that hint of darkness calling her home, sends her careening over the cliff side of memory.
By the time he turns to rear she is already curling her wings forward like twin scythes. Her body curls backward with the movement. Dust billows around them, turning her glow to sunset instead of solar flare. His hooves find only feathers instead of flesh. Feathers flutter down around their hooves and land in a pattern that will haunt her dreams. The wounds on her shoulder ache with the force of her movement and she welcomes the sting and burn. It settles her from the cliff side and bleats lamb-like against her hunger.
Whatever is left of the monster she's almost become, blinks and retreats as the gong vibrates deep into her aching bones.
But when the dust settles, and they pull away from each other, their shadows still stretch long and low to meet each other. Her golden gaze still flickers and flashes like a solar flare reaching for a star-dream. And her smile still speaks of teeth, and rubies, and spit.
@
Summary: For a moment she forgets that this fight is supposed to be a civilized match between the two of them, testing courage and mettle instead of blood lust. It is only warning gong that settles her fury (and hunger). Amaunet is already pulling away and curling her wings towards him (and in front of her like a shield) as he rears. His strike finds feathers instead of flesh, and while her wings is damaged it's the ache and blood loss from her previous wounds that really effects her. She pulls away as the gong signaling the end of their fight rings, but her smile is nothing sweet, or gentle. It's a promise.
Attack Used: 0
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 1
Block(s) Left: 0
Item(s) Used: none
Response Deadline: none (unless you want a closer)
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