09-20-2017, 12:07 AM
THANA.
(as black as your soul)
How at ease the heavily weighted and quixotically agile equine is as it maneuvers itself into a more favorable position – the rage is evident within her crystalline glare, but she cares not! Her anger is only a weakness; a vulnerability that would inevitably lead to her downfall if she were not careful. Her teeth, bared with a wry, insidious grin, are stained with her blood – only a small taste to whet the appetite, stirring a deep and voracious hunger for her demise and imminent destruction.
Her teeth barely scrape the underside of her belly – how she had been able to transition from prone to upright with such deft refinement is beyond her, but her teeth manage to cut through her skin – ah, but barely! Such dexterity and aptitude Raxa must have, to so easily be spared a more grievous wound from the snarling, gnashing predator on her heel.
A mark - two, to be precise – but that is all she has left upon her adversary; she is practically unscathed! A deep and rousing snarl rises from the depth of her chest, reverberating within her throat as blood-tinted saliva drops from her parted mouth. Her teeth lash out yet again, longing to seize her soft and supple flesh between their sharpened ridges, to tear away at the tender flesh of her haunch.
She, too, is swift, lunging away from her hind leg quickly – it does manage to make contact with her own hind leg as she eludes the full brunt of her assault, but it does little more than leave an ache (and in time, swelling and soreness) – she is not foolish enough to stand too close to her corpulent hind end, and thus, with distance placed in between them, is not fazed by her feeble attempt at lashing out at her with her forelegs.
Enough, he utters – and she is still, her chest heaving from the exertion, while her two-toned gaze (heavily laden with ferocity, with fury and adrenaline) is settled upon him. There is a trickle of blood sliding down her skin and weaving its way through the blackness of her fur, but it goes unseen, hidden away within the thickness of it – she had been cut, and her skin had been broken, but the metallic taste of her blood had done little to satisfy her. She is quiet, listening to Gryffen and his instruction, but her teeth long to sink into the delectable, soft tissue of her throat, to tear it out and leave her gasping for the air she did not deserve to breath.
Take her captive, he urges her, and she is lashing out, teeth gnashing yet again at her legs and underbelly, seeking to deepen the mark she had already left.
”Go!” she snarls, snapping at Raxa, the lone Sylvan that stood to protect nothing, and no one – not even herself. ”Sylva is no longer yours to keep! You are our property now; get in line! Move along!”
Her teeth barely scrape the underside of her belly – how she had been able to transition from prone to upright with such deft refinement is beyond her, but her teeth manage to cut through her skin – ah, but barely! Such dexterity and aptitude Raxa must have, to so easily be spared a more grievous wound from the snarling, gnashing predator on her heel.
A mark - two, to be precise – but that is all she has left upon her adversary; she is practically unscathed! A deep and rousing snarl rises from the depth of her chest, reverberating within her throat as blood-tinted saliva drops from her parted mouth. Her teeth lash out yet again, longing to seize her soft and supple flesh between their sharpened ridges, to tear away at the tender flesh of her haunch.
She, too, is swift, lunging away from her hind leg quickly – it does manage to make contact with her own hind leg as she eludes the full brunt of her assault, but it does little more than leave an ache (and in time, swelling and soreness) – she is not foolish enough to stand too close to her corpulent hind end, and thus, with distance placed in between them, is not fazed by her feeble attempt at lashing out at her with her forelegs.
Enough, he utters – and she is still, her chest heaving from the exertion, while her two-toned gaze (heavily laden with ferocity, with fury and adrenaline) is settled upon him. There is a trickle of blood sliding down her skin and weaving its way through the blackness of her fur, but it goes unseen, hidden away within the thickness of it – she had been cut, and her skin had been broken, but the metallic taste of her blood had done little to satisfy her. She is quiet, listening to Gryffen and his instruction, but her teeth long to sink into the delectable, soft tissue of her throat, to tear it out and leave her gasping for the air she did not deserve to breath.
Take her captive, he urges her, and she is lashing out, teeth gnashing yet again at her legs and underbelly, seeking to deepen the mark she had already left.
”Go!” she snarls, snapping at Raxa, the lone Sylvan that stood to protect nothing, and no one – not even herself. ”Sylva is no longer yours to keep! You are our property now; get in line! Move along!”
Thana's speed and accuracy are both higher than Raxa's, thus, she lashed out again with her teeth and dodged to avoid a great deal of her damage. However, Raxa split skin, and her hit to Thana's hindleg caused pain and will cause a bruise in time.