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08-24-2014, 03:00 PM
“Oh no you don't. You're not going anywhere.” Your words are barked out, your previously almost-humored voice turning malicious in response to her haughty response to your idoicy. You've stopped by now, turned to look at her. You do not know that she had just caught your eyes for a second time a moment before you ran, planting a different seed into your head. You do not know at all, but you will come to find out when the moment is right, in the future, when this foolishness is over. For now, you know only rage at the fact that she has poisoned you and then assaulted you.
“You're a special kind of bitch, you know, to poison me and then assault me and pretend you did neither.” Of course she hasn't yet denied assaulting you, but you're sure she will. In your head, a sort of panic overtakes you that is not your own as your companion realizes the events that she has set in motion in her moment of childish humor and devotion to her ungrateful companion. You take no mind to her sudden change of heart- the images she sends you in your head seem to imply that she is the one that hit you with the rock- but you just assume she is trying to diffuse a situation that has gotten out of hand.
But no, you will not let this mare get away with trickery. She has played a game with you that she never should have started, you will win. You pick up a canter again, this time making sure your head is down and your eyes are upon her. You will not miss this time as you charge at her, you assure yourself. Massive hooves thunder across the ground as you try to come near her, head dipping down only to raise up at the last moment, attempting to scrape your horns deeply into the flesh over her side. But you do not stop there. Your charge forward continues, your chest presented as a billboard that might beat against her and knock her sideways or to the ground.
And while you are mad at the mother, you have no quarrel with the foal, so you have tried your best to be sure the young one is out of harm's reach. Or at least out of harm's reach enough that it will not be killed by your testosterone-fueled rampage.
“You're a special kind of bitch, you know, to poison me and then assault me and pretend you did neither.” Of course she hasn't yet denied assaulting you, but you're sure she will. In your head, a sort of panic overtakes you that is not your own as your companion realizes the events that she has set in motion in her moment of childish humor and devotion to her ungrateful companion. You take no mind to her sudden change of heart- the images she sends you in your head seem to imply that she is the one that hit you with the rock- but you just assume she is trying to diffuse a situation that has gotten out of hand.
But no, you will not let this mare get away with trickery. She has played a game with you that she never should have started, you will win. You pick up a canter again, this time making sure your head is down and your eyes are upon her. You will not miss this time as you charge at her, you assure yourself. Massive hooves thunder across the ground as you try to come near her, head dipping down only to raise up at the last moment, attempting to scrape your horns deeply into the flesh over her side. But you do not stop there. Your charge forward continues, your chest presented as a billboard that might beat against her and knock her sideways or to the ground.
And while you are mad at the mother, you have no quarrel with the foal, so you have tried your best to be sure the young one is out of harm's reach. Or at least out of harm's reach enough that it will not be killed by your testosterone-fueled rampage.
we all look for ways to make the pain go away
Permission granted to use magic or physical force with Oxy at any time for any reason to any degree, with the exception of killing him.
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
Please do not tag Oxy unless it is in an opening post
