The crunch- the nauseating, bone-grinding crunch- that follows your buck is almost as good for your constitution as locoweed. It drives you, your heart racing faster at the possibilities that await you when you turn around. One vial, heartless part of you hopes that you see massive destruction. You hope to see blood, an eye rolling from a socket, a nose so mangled that the very act of breathing is a chore. You pray to have demolished her facade in such a way that no magic, no power of the Gods could make right what you have wronged. You wish for this because you wish Eris dead, you wish her heart and soul wrecked. She knows what she has taken from you, she knows she does not deserve it, and still she will not relinquish it. She holds the title general against her heart and claims that it is hers. You wish her these evils because she knows what she's doing is wrong and she continues to do it.

With blood dripping from your horns you regain some presence of mind. You attacked without thought before but now you think, you plan, you design. The instant your head is elevated, pulled away from her bleeding chest and taunting eyes, you push off. Your right hind does the work, of course, your left hind a present but mostly useless passenger along for the ride. Her sing-song words are a backdrop to your lunge, a sickening soundtrack that overlays the grinding of bones and the tearing of flesh, but your mind is almost immune to the taunting now. You are driven and focused, thinking only of your next motion, your next attack.

From your right you see Eris lunge forward, her hooves reaching for what might have been your front limbs. You are lucky, and thankful, that you moved and her attack has missed. Your cannons already scream with every stride and protest every time you beat them against the ground. To have them shredded again, torn and mutilated, may be the very death of you. You doubt the healer will be keen to fix you up after this battle, having attacked her general and all. You're going to be on your own for healing, you imagine.

As you continue to move forward, always angling to your left, you feel Red's teeth rake against your right hip. She grabs little more than fur, some skin being scraped but your body being mostly untouched. She may think she has speed against you- and perhaps she would if you had been an untrained foal- but you are battle hardened and your muscles know how best to drive you forward. You almost start to mock her, to call her out for her massive ineptitude, but you decide to save your breath. Your chest already heaves, your body is already damp with sweat. To taunt her is to put forth extra effort that you cannot afford. You'll have to save it for after the battle, when you are looking down at her from above.

But where she has failed, you will shine. You think you are now far enough away to buck- not trusting your left hind to support you should you rear- and so you do. You drop your head down, letting your forward momentum drive your weight to the front as your hinds lift from the ground. Your right rear kicks out violently, aiming for Eris' right ribs if she has not moved, your left one still protesting any unnecessary motion and remaining rather flimsy through the ordeal.

When your hooves land, as you start to turn back to face Rose Red, you cannot stand it anymore. The aches and pains of your injuries are too much, the various throbbing and pulsing sensations weighing too heavily on your mind. Mostly you are strong, but sometimes you are weak. You want to reach into your bag, pull out the vines and numb yourself to your troubles, but you know you don't have time. The few seconds it would take would leave you vulnerable to attack, give Eris the edge she might need to overcome you. But being smart does not save you from being desperate. You need the comfort of the familiar. You reach for a new type of magic than before, and not one that you intend to turn against Eris.

You feel the shock within your brain, although mild as you've tried to control it, the nerves protesting in anger at first, but then succumbing to your will. As if you've ingested the very plants you desire, your brain becomes foggy and distant, the pain still pulsating, but a little less concerning to you now. If there is one thing this life has taught you, it is that drugs are good.


Post: 3/4
WC: 798