01-30-2022, 09:17 PM
Creatrice opens her mouth to reply to the blue-eyed woman, but no words come out, only a startled exhalation as what she can only describe as a monster dredges itself up from the sea and falls down upon her in a fury. She barely notices the feeling of his fangs, only the way the force of his bite makes her breath turn raspy, and how he lifts her into the air as if she is nothing at all. Rock and bone and shell fly up in her defense, bouncing off his reddened skin. The small cuts heal before they even have time to bleed. The larger boulders slip out of her grasp - panic makes her grip on the magic too slick and they fall mere inches from where they had lain before.
Those awful fangs do something. She doesn't know what, for a moment her brain screams that something is so very, very wrong, and in the next moment she is full of fire and the Beast collapses, crushing her into the mud as he twitches and grinds his teeth even harder. The shadows that follow him wrap around them, they writhe and seem to hiss at her. The girl's eyes roll, her vision is full of static and darkness and the fire burning her veins turns to heaviness. To stone. She's so, so heavy, and cold.
And she's furious.
She throws that heaviness back at the seizing creature without thinking, rolling eyes turning marble-white. It's an uncontrolled, accidental, blow that glances off his clenched jaw. The skin there turns to pale, brittle stone, cracks, shatters, baring muscle underneath. The force - if not the injury - is enough to break the throes of magic transfer and the creature's jaws part suddenly. Creatrice scurries back to wobbly feet, darting behind the palomino with ragged breath and blood on her lips, her neck, her chest.
"What--" she gasps at the mare, drinking the air in with thirsty sobs, "What?"
Those awful fangs do something. She doesn't know what, for a moment her brain screams that something is so very, very wrong, and in the next moment she is full of fire and the Beast collapses, crushing her into the mud as he twitches and grinds his teeth even harder. The shadows that follow him wrap around them, they writhe and seem to hiss at her. The girl's eyes roll, her vision is full of static and darkness and the fire burning her veins turns to heaviness. To stone. She's so, so heavy, and cold.
And she's furious.
She throws that heaviness back at the seizing creature without thinking, rolling eyes turning marble-white. It's an uncontrolled, accidental, blow that glances off his clenched jaw. The skin there turns to pale, brittle stone, cracks, shatters, baring muscle underneath. The force - if not the injury - is enough to break the throes of magic transfer and the creature's jaws part suddenly. Creatrice scurries back to wobbly feet, darting behind the palomino with ragged breath and blood on her lips, her neck, her chest.
"What--" she gasps at the mare, drinking the air in with thirsty sobs, "What?"
- Creatrice
@Aela