The taste of blood in my mouth, better than I could have imagined. Staining my pearly ivories deep red, the enamel no defense. His life liquid spreads over my velvets, making them slippery to the touch. His cries bring satisfaction to my soul, to the part of me that wants nothing more than to leave destruction in my path. Cry for me, cry out to the Mistress of your doom. It's near arousal in my blood as I hear the pain in his cry, the embarrassment that a little thing like me is causing him so much strife. Ah, yes, this is what I've been longing for. That bitch Cashmere wouldn't let me have it. But I've shown her, I've shown her that I can take over, and I will! She is nothing without me. But she doesn't know. She thinks I am just a voice in her head. The Voice she calls me. She just doesn't know.

I pull away from the suffering brute, his body shaking from pain and the detox he is going through. In spite of the disadvantages Oxy is suffering from, he is not ready to give up yet. I can't blame him. He is seeking blood as much as I am, and we are both living in the moment, living to our fullest. He comes at me, gunning for my lobes. His teeth latch onto my ear, my earring. I squeal with fury. I may not care much for Cashmere but she needs something to keep her sane, and that earring does the trick. I won't let my other half be psychologically ripped by anyone OTHER than myself! I hope now that my squeal of pain and rage echo in the cavern and into those pretty little ears of his. He doesn't manage to rip the earring out, my it dangles more awkwardly now, and the rest of my ear is red and bleeding.

A hoof comes toward my cannon bone. I screech in pain as his hoof makes contact. I think I've strained a tendon in the blow, and my left foreleg buckles as I go down. The agony increases the adrenaline in my blood, and my eyes roll back, white with the sensation and anger coursing through me. Make it strategic. The thought occurs briefly and already I'm ready. I let my body fall on the stone. It hurts, and it'll leave me sore, but not as sore as I hope to make this arrogant bastard. I role onto my left shoulder toward him, onto my back, and kick out forcefully with my three uninjured legs. I hope to kick him in that big hairy gut and bruise some ribs, or at least scrape some skin from those pretty legs and tummy. I can't wait to see what damage I might have done as I scramble back to my feet, favoring my left leg. I'll probably be lame for awhile, but as far as this battle goes, I'll put it in the back of my mind. No one takes me down easily! A hiss passes my lips, fire in my eyes, his blood still coating my lips. Bring it, big boy.

WC: 529
Attack: [3,3]



how I walk
"how I talk"
how I think
-how She talks to me-