01-19-2020, 07:03 PM
** this post is mature due to gore **
<center><table bgcolor=262626 style="border-color:#262626; border-width: 2px; border-style: solid;" cellspacing=10 cellpadding=10 width=620><tr><td><center><font color=e6e6e6 face=times style=font-size:9pt;line-height:8pt;letter-spacing:2pt;>here comes a candle to light you to bed
here comes a chopper to chop off your head</font></center><p align=justify><font color=bfbfbf face="times new roman" style="font-size: 10pt">The darkness that takes Ripley away from Ryatah’s body is a blessing. She exists in total, numbing darkness for a moment of peace she has not experienced since she was a foal. She tries to forget everything, though her mind is unaccustomed to shutting out bad thoughts, and the darkness before her eyes is a blank canvas on which her memories dance.
It does not last forever.
She's on her hooves again on the plains and for a moment she fears that things are about to repeat - that Ryatah will appear once again and the pair will be trapped in this horrific loop until the end of time. However, in this circle of red, it is not her mother who appears. She recognizes herself, her monster-self, instantly and knows what's coming next. She knows because she remembers every single face she had devoured as that creature. She remembers their valiant but ultimately futile attempts to win against a creature designed solely for the hunt.
A part of her, the part of her that remembers those faces, is tempted to stand still where she is and just allow what this to happen. Ripley feels the weight of her sins pressing down on her, the latest and worst - whether or not it was the real Ryatah - the final crack to cause it all to fall apart.
But, like all her victims, there are powerful instincts within her which will not let her just accept death. Futile or not, she will fight until her heart is crushed within those gleaming jaws. Maybe then she will get some real peace.
The monster’s clicking call sends a chill down Ripley’s spine as she experiences for the first time what it is like to be hunted. Soft, sad eyes watch the shift in the weight before her monster-self charges. Like with Ryatah, as they meet a swing of Ripley’s ram-horned head jerks towards her opponent but the attack bounces off armoured plates. Every part of her aches from the collision and she feels that tricky knife-wielding tail slice at her belly as the monster turns for another attack. It’s a shallow enough cut, not deep enough to spill her guts though blood does spray on the ground below her. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of her blood follows.
They both roar in unison - the feral, nasty call of the monster and the desperate anger of the equine - when they come together again. Soft flesh bruises and cuts against the sharp plates adorning the monster. Those wicked teeth and that sharp tail aren’t even needed, though they help make quick work of this fight Her monster-self is always wild but there is an extra ferocity now, as though it can sense that it is fighting its once-self and wishes to erase the weakness from its past. Ripley’s attacks cause some bruising on her opponent but it isn’t long before she has been sliced and bitten and bruised so many times her dappled coat is covered in her own blood and it spills freely onto the ground below her. She can’t reach the soft parts of her other-self, these curved horns don’t have a point she can use to slice tendon. Cannot spill the acidic blood that is strong enough to eat through that armour with the tools she has been given. These horns are mighty, but they're a tease - a false sense that she was not left defenseless when she was stripped of everything else.
Still she struggles on until she sees the final blow that will take her down just before it comes. It is poetic, after all - that now this monster sinks its teeth into the flesh at her neck and pulls her down to the ground with a mighty tug. She had damaged Ryatah’s throat with her blunt herbivore teeth, but Ripley’s throat is absolutely shredded as she collides with the earth.
The last thing she hears is that dreadful clicking noise as those dripping jaws tear into her belly at the same spot where she had first bled, her body jerking as her muscles and insides are torn and devoured. She feels as her other-self begins to eat her while her heart still pumps. Tastes and smells her own blood as her vision blacks out from the pain and damage.
And yet, all Ripley is thinking of is her mom and how she will be with her again soon.
<p align=right><font color=e6e6e6 style=font-size:10pt;line-height:8pt;letter-spacing:7pt;>ripley <s>& nostromo</s></font>
<font face="times" size="1" color="e6e6e6" style="letter-spacing:1px;line-height:14pt">XXVIII<font color=262626>-----</font></font></center></p></font></tr></td></table></center>