déodat,
There was no reaction from the beast, a slight disappointment really, it would’ve brought great pleasure to see the brute seethe with rage. Déodat remained oblivious to the serpent flying behind him, his focus was far too heavily set upon the equine, and so far the creature hadn’t done more than shriek. Of course he wouldn’t underestimate the power of such a thing, the Blood Prince knew full well what sort of damage a dragon’s fire could inflict.
As the Blood Prince charged at his opponent, he could feel his crown once again began to break skin. May it be a permanent reminder to the mongrel of this battle. Sweet satisfaction rolled inside of him. Every time this brute gazed at his reflection he would see the scar. A tattoo upon his flesh., one could even goes as far as to say an autograph from Déodat. This brute should be thanking him for the mark, it meant he gave enough shits inflict such pain. Not everyone could say they had dueled the soldier from the north. Though his pleasurable thoughts ceased as he heard the sounds of wings, and dared to glance over and saw nothing, but his sense of hearing helped him decipher the location of the beast. She was beneath him, and not only that she was nearing places, that may not often be used, but most definitely needed to remain in tact. In a desperate attempt to save his precious manhood, he flung up his hindquarters slightly in a half-buck. Pain shot through his back from the previous blows he had received. Much to his sheer relief, the flames simply singed fur along the inside of his legs. Baby Déo still had hope of being born.
Relief washed over him as he watched the serpentine lady flee from his underside. There would be no further attempts at his groin it seemed. At least he hoped so. Never had he encountered an opponent set on castrating him. It was peculiar thought and very well would make a humorous story in the future. That was the future though, and this was the present. In the present, it made Déodat feel, full of utter contempt toward the stallion, whether he ordered such a thing or not. Only the weakest of men would strike at something so precious. This just made him desire to crush the rodent even more.
Again a wave of delight hit him as he felt his hooves hit flesh. It wasn’t the weak spot he had aimed for, but Déodat would take what he had been given and be content with the blow. He could hear the sound of his hooves hitting the stones, making a soft clack. His opponent was coming toward him and with the small amount of time he had, Déodat flung himself forward barely missing the hulking frame that had been heading toward him. The Blood Prince could feel his breaths coming in heavily. It had been far too long since he had exerted himself in such a way. The spots that had been bitten and bruised were beginning to ache. His muscles and lungs cried out for rest. But he wasn’t to the point of sheer exhaustion yet. There was still more left within him and Déodat wasn’t finished with his foe. Bleeding or not, the equine wasn’t dead and that was the only form of equine he could truly appreciate.
Déodat steered his body back toward the stallion so then he was coming up from the side. Something inside him set on this being the final blow and the final opportunity to conquer and subjugate. He headed straight for his opponent once more, hoping he would be charging at his opponent heading toward his large sides. This would be it! This would be the final blow and he hoped to watch the monster before him collapse onto the floor dead. Or even better, have the prideful brute fall onto his knees and beg for mercy. As he hopefully drew closer to his opponent’s side he shifted his gait from a canter to a gallop hoping to embed his horn into the brute’s right ribcage. Déodat wasn’t a mindless killer. A soldier with no opposition to death, but perhaps he would let the brute run away. That portion of him that sought domination cried out in protest, but his mind flew back to the skyrats and hornless who had helped him. Would killing a capable soldier benefit them in defeating the wraith’s? No, it wouldn’t. Mortally wounding him on the other hand would leave him alive and still give Déo the pleasure of crushing him beneath his hoof.
It was a bitter compromise, but admittedly Déo hated wraiths more than his opponent.
[WC: 790
3/3 0/1
Summary: Déo charges forward in hopes of embedding his horn into Tyra's side.
Oh my, I am so sorry about that. You deciphered it perfectly, I just didn't proof read it =I]
"Speech speech speech"
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[JUDGED] cavalier youth
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