It's her song that first alerts you to her presence- that ugly, grating noise that falls from her lips. An intimidation factor? Is she trying to scare you? You live among crazies. Hell, they think you're crazy. But you're not. You have a habit, but it's not the same thing, and they've always underestimated you. Lace Face thought you were a pet, the Glass Horn stole your soul thinking you would hate her for it and Rose Red thought she could seduce you and wrap you around her little hoof. But they've all been wrong, all been foolish. Under your hazy eyes and swaying stance is a brain- a working brain- and you use it daily. If only they had been smart enough to notice none of this would have happened. Therefore, you're able to justify things as you always have- making them the fault of someone else.

“The child general sings a child's song. Typical,” you spit back, stopping in your tracks, eyes wide as you raise your head and turn to look at her. But they are not wide with fear, you feel no fear this morning. You feel nothing but raw, pure hatred and you will crush her. You will grind her bones beneath your very hooves, like mortar and pestle she will crumble below you and you will stand above her drinking in glorious victory. And, when you're done, you'll both know why it was you that won and not her. It is because you deserve this, you have worked for it. If Red had the sugar lips, the saccharine sweetness, of your Phantom Seeker you would not be so upset. At least then she would have a skill worth mentioning. But she doesn't. She has nothing, just a name and a faded title. Queen of the Asylum. The title is as much a joke as she is.

You wait too long, your rage too much- the feeling is overpowering, a weakness even. You are reminded of fighting with Snowflake, of wanting to smash her to a billion pieces for making you recall Kellian, for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Except back then you were detoxing, you had something to distract you, something to bite at your mind when the anger became too much. Now you have nothing, just a boggart you hate and new magic from the Gods. Your body quivers with anticipation as you see Red launch forward, thrashing and screaming, reaching for your limbs. At the last second you make a stupid decision, but one of pride- let her come. You stand tall, not flinching, not moving, as her hooves shred the front of your legs. The skin is torn open, blood leaking down them already. You bite your teeth against the pain but your eyes do not avert from her's. It is a taunt. You can take her, she is weak, her attacks mean nothing. Nothing at all.

It is her head reaching towards your chest that finally spurs you into motion. You push off your powerful hindquarters, lunging forward and to the left, your chest somehow avoiding all but a superficial scrape of Red's teeth. At the same time, you reach within yourself and pray the Gods do not fail you now. You reach for your magic, your blood bursting magic, sending it towards Red if you can, hoping that her very body will betray her. She's taken your blood, let it drip down your forelimbs and escape your body. You'll do her one better. You will try to make her blood leave her without any wounds. If that doesn't put the fear of the Gods within her you don't know what will.

But making the Crimson Bitch fear the Gods is not why you came here. You came here to make her fear Oxy, fear you. Fear of the Gods is healthy. Fear of you will keep her from death. The benefit is clear, if only she will see it. It's simple logic, really.

Hoping that the mare will soon begin to feel the pain of your magic, you waste no time in playing the game. You reach out, biting down, grabbing for flesh, hoping to feel it on your tongue. If you have judged right, your mouth will be somewhere near her withers. For good measure, you throw your right knee up, hoping to jam it into Red's ribs just behind her right forelimb. All the while, the fresh cuts on your forelimbs are moaning and groaning their displeasure. It's a low blow, sure, but invaders won't give her the courtesy of an honorable fight. You won't do her the disservice. Or maybe you just want to see her suffer. Yeah... it's probably the second one.


Post: 1/4
WC: 792