Changing winds, changing minds

[PRIVATE] Changing winds, changing minds

Hidden Account atk: 4.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0

Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17hh :: 5 (Tallsun) HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE

#11

01-17-2014, 01:05 AM

The vixen her body resisting the infection. Resisting my infection. Why must she resist me? Don't resist me. Can't you feel my love pouring from my soul into your soul. Don't resist. Poison the longs my breath is poisonous for you the green from my nares to yours. Your ivories snap SNAP at me but they are so pretty why would I be afraid? Don't be afraid, pretty lady painted in blood. So pretty is your painting, can I paint too? I don't have fingers but my tongue will do what about my tail and my wings. Oh my wings I can paint with my claws let me paint with your blood.

Ivories snap, shrieks all around. Defend yourself lovely lady defend yourself. Your ivories tear into my rotting flesh and it feels so good, do it again. Sharp, not like your man's fangs, his fangs meant for ripping into my flesh and tearing me to shreds, to close around my windpipe and suffocate me. But you don't want to suffocate me do you? You like me pretty lady I know it inside. I can be your friend too, lady of painted so pretty. Old instincts take over, to protect and defend and step back I do. Step back but my hooves are up, flying in her face, my wings propelling forward, claws on the ends swiping at your skin. Your flesh is not rotten, what pretty marks can I make? Your brindles will look like nothing when I'm done with you.

I land, not caring if you are wounded or merely annoyed. I cackle, my voice raspy and seemingly choked with blood. I sound gutted, like I might be dying. But I am not dead pretty lady I am undead. Infected wraith. Wraith. My infection tells me to spread. SPREAD ME. But I have tried and you have resisted. Perhaps you will spend time with me and become infected or perhaps you will be the one immune to it all. SPREAD. I tried, precious infection I tried. Lobes loose on my skull, the tendons barely connected to move them around. Orbs sunken but bright red and almost slick with blood, dripping over the irises. His pupils are barely visible.

"Perhaps. But now, what do I care?" Gurgle, gurgle. "Am I tasty, my pretty lady painted in blood?"

Satanic Silk

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