Bemusement, bewildered, mixing with the violence, the fervor, the assault upon all the Nightingale has ever known. Bewailing— the clamor of rich German vocals, flesh meeting the tip of her scythe, her perilous sword, sweeping upwards, tresses circling around the spiraled, rose dipped end, dripping, washed with the rain and turning the water that rivulets off it a scarlet, murky complexion in the accursed dawn, the bruised purple skies.
The taste of copper is now blossoming against her tongue, recoiling, sinew snapped into, sliding down the back of her throat and causing her to yank away, gnashing teeth and spluttering, coughing lungs, onwards to the left upon creamy peach hooves, anchors unto the muddied, slippery soil, another wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm her. For all the carnality of death, the yearning, the consuming touch of passion for war, the rage and wrath that had sunk into her veins as the summer Sun from the Empress of cruor, the last time she had seen such repulsion, such dread, such alarming shock was when her bedeviled crown had lashed into lace and silk, into the bosom of her dam, sealing her fate into damnation.
And it sickened her.


In her moment of biliousness, she recognizes the gleam of glass, the blaze of movement, but she is too late to return fire, for even as she begins a wheel for her croup to face the Jester's outstretching maw, ivories sink into the meaty sinew just beneath her jugular, and she screeches, cardinal and ebony splotching her vision, searing, scorching, snapping through nerves as she withdraws, and the kneejerk reaction of brandishing her hindquarters and flourishing hooves in a buck is instantaneous, without thought, needing, wanting, hoping for the thud of satisfaction, even as the ground squelches beneath her uncertain hold upon the world and when her full weight hits the ground again, she almost falters, feeling the foreboding idea of falling as she once had with the woman with a cougar as a daemon and acerbic rain as a weapon, savage eyes whirling as she twists once more to face her Queen, the accelerated, fleeting, palpitating beat of her heart sounding a billion alarms within her dome, trembling as a leaf in the wind, noticing the most minuscule of details upon her Queen's figure, the way the rain dribbles off her sodden coat, the wide, almost childish amber of her duo of spheres, and the back of her mind pleads for her to cease, its own remorse matching the repulsion she knows not swirls within the Jester's veins.

"Why? WHY?!" The shrill, brittle, wailing vocals slide fragile from her lungs, rising as smoke from the pyre. Crimson has begun to ooze down from her neck, raindrops scattered as constellations in her lashes. Mud has been strewn up to her forearms, icy, despite the humid morn. "YOU ABANDONED US!" With her sides heaving, vision shaking with the warmth that pools at the edges of her eyes she charges forth again, towards her right this time, crown far from sheathed— continually pointed as a edged sword towards the Jester, seeking to move past her, teeth aiming towards her withers. Fiery, irate, yet anguished, dejected, possessive, jealous. "You abandoned me! I.. I tried so hard to gather us a home! US! The FAMILY!" Her words are choked, thick and strangled, ending in a sob that convulses her entire frame. "And now we're collapsed, crumbled, thrown into the ash with the tides of a new family! You LOVE THEM MORE! More.. more then me.. Did you ever care about us, See-lee-e?" (Did you ever give me a second thought?) "Or is all you want power?"