P a n g a e a
the nature of the beast is, you want it
nature of the beast is, i do too
The dinosaur horse, they weren't happy. In fact, it was taking all of Pangaea's control to keep their calm as they stared down this tyrant beast. It was worse than the T-Rex, or even the Spino that had taken out their younger brother. Pan had angled down, aiming to attack, to hit it directly, to get at those eyes. It hadn't even noticed them as the stupid thing moved and they collided with it like some cartoon character going face first into a wall painted to look like a road. Gritting their teeth as their body slid down it's neck, the dino barely had a chance to catch their breath before a sudden wave of COLD breeched the undeveloped defenses to the cold. It was the first time the dinosaur horse had ever felt cold, and it seemed to freeze their blood, before it began to slowly fuel that fire.
It numbed the pain of the torn into limbs, and with that numbness came a reinforced desire to cause pain and suffering to this beast who would not go down. Pangaea narrowed their eyes, the reptilian slitted pupil focusing hard. Shifting their weight, wings were spread out as far as they could reach, and with a powerful, downward thrust, they soared back up. Hitting a height that felt comfortable, neutral even, the saurian-equine eyed the enemy down below, focusing on each injury, focusing on each wound, cataloging, desiring, aching to return the pain that had been delivered. They wouldn't hesitate, as they finally settled on a target, teeth gnashing, fangs glinting in the sunlight.
This wasn't the mare seen before, who initially attacked, who tried to work with the others. This creature was lost into a desire to feel the enemy's blood slipping down her throat, to feel the soft, delicate frame work of those wings sliced by her claws. This was a creature who was seeing red, lost in the blood lust that her species felt so rarely. Her muzzle twisted, a smirk, and she felt far more powerful, far more like the feminine monster she'd been back home than she had in a long time. That odd cry left her muzzle again, half avian, half reptilian; But this time, it wasn't a war cry.
This was a hunger, a dangerous call of one predator going in for the kill on a pray. Her very posture had changed, more rigid, less fluid, eyes locked onto that pure, pristine wing that this creature still held, like a flaunting piece of 'here I am'. The red cape to her bullish tendencies. Snarling, she dove, wings suddenly held close, her body streamlined with the desire to give herself more speed, more power behind her last ditch effort of an attack. She knew, deep down; she was ruining fumes, that cold blast had taken a lot out of her. But she wasn't about to show herself as some meek, weak predator that could be picked off by anything bigger. She took down the bigger and the badder. She could hold her own. And she wasn't going to let this Teyry beast knock her out of the fight before she had her own taste of it's blood.
NOT UNTIL SHE HAD RETURNED THE FAVOR. She aimed to latch onto that wing, a frenzied, blood rage activated that would have her teeth, and claws ripping into delicate flesh if she could only make the landing this time, her own wings would hold her in place, those talons on her wing hinge locking into that flesh to give her the purchase she needed to do as much damage as quickly as she could, as much as she could, before she knew she'd be knocked back, knocked down, and more than likely, not able to get back up the next time.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Leviathan @Faction @Israfel @
Notes: Well aware she's not got much health left, Pangaea has hit a blood-rage straight. She's not really seeing anything except the Teryr. She's not really feeling anything except the desire to return the favor of the pain it had caused her. She's angry, she's hungry for an attack, and she's determined to make one attack hit. Really, I think it's her last effort with all her remaining energy channeled into a blood-rage.
oh, it’s the nature of the beast in you
you wrap yourself around me and tightening the noose
trapped in the cage surrounding the sinful side of you
