illynx,

Rap-tap!, the song of her hooves against sinew, her smirk almost palpable in the air in her pleasure at having properly designed her false sword strike. Despite their dramatic first experiences together, it was pleasant to show him that she was not all shrill words and accusations, a woman who had learned well in her years upon the earth; surely it was to be expected. She had lived longer than the ebony devil had, and while her conquests were not as numerous or far told as his own, she had always been of fighting spirit and had spent most of her childhood in endless combat with the hornless children of her birthplace; it had made her strong and treacherous in many ways, a blistering ball of fire that scalded any and all who stood in her path.

Glinting and full of her proverbial flame, her golden eyes are narrow as her horn nears the same damaged shoulder, the war song of keratin on flesh meeting her flattened ears and extending the dark smile upon her lips. Feeling the tempo of her heart rise at the sound of the impact, she succumbs to the rhythm of the sonata that Deimos and she played together, their hooves a throbbing bass-line and the whistles of their bodies as they broke the air into pieces the lilting song of a soprano; it was a dance of devilish delight, Illynx sipping lightly off of the battle high even as his damaged shoulder slammed itself into her stream-lined frame. Hardened by the testosterone that flooded his veins, the weight of his body dimpled the gold-streaked flesh that covered her rib cage, pushing her carefully balanced breath from her lungs in an audible whoosh that left the tingle of white light burning through the corner of her eyes.

Snaking her head low for balance as she was brutally forced to the right, her metallic limbs flog the earth for grip as the white grasp of the man clenches her flesh and mane in a single hold. The bruises are instant from the simultaneous blows; a low growl escaping her lips as she feels a few strands of her precious mane snap under the pressure of his incisors, the partially breathless bitch lunges back towards the grasp of the devil. With any luck and swiftness on her behalf, her right shoulder would meet with his receding teeth, the irony of the action regardless of its outcome sending a thrill of humor through her, granting her something to focus on something other than the pleading that came from her bruised ribs. He wants a taste of me - let him have it! she thinks to herself, a barking laugh choked back down her throat that presented itself as a partially deranged gurgle on the disturbed morning air. Her crown pivots around to place her golden horn between herself and his much longer weapon, hopefully a deterrent for any strikes he may attempt to rain down on her should her returning shove fail to find it's purchase and keep him too preoccupied with ringing teeth to worry about further ravaging her bruised neck.

She is not finished in her barrage, however, breath regained in the moments that had passed since it was so informally ripped from her lungs though her head still rang from the impact of their bodies. Her hind end swings about to send a cow kick to her right, golden limbs a blur as they dart outwards in hunger for another scintillating addition to their battle song; she hoped they would land on either his flank or the back half of his barrel, but there was no assurance that he would linger as close as he had been to her to warrant a solid strike.

[ 2/3 : 634 words; boss. ]

intending to burn - pretending to fight it
everyone learns faster on fire