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12-20-2014, 12:56 PM
 No smile crossed Ophelia’s lips today, not even a bitter twist on a taut face. Anger burned, and her nares flared with heavy breath, corners of her mouth wrinkled in a sneer. Glass tears he did not deserve to shed follow track down his masculine cheek bones, and she yanked her body back up, feeling the black rage settle like seductive smoke through her limbs. He had no right to feel pity and sadness during battle, death looming in anticipation upon their every whisper. They stood on the same ground, plagued by heartache, surviving, and they were equals. Pity was reserved for those beneath your standing, for those so unfortunate to lose themselves in the maze of their own actions. Ophelia was not lost. She knew exactly which door she stood before, and she threw her body against the gate. Muffled voices haunted her from the other side, tempting her to release the beast inside, one she had so carefully locked behind ice-iron plaques on her heart. A plume of pink affection swirled with the black in her soul and snuck under the door, watching as the… what was he now?... as Mauja stood, accepting Tinek’s punishment without hesitation. Cold winds stirred the long, tranquil and bloodstained locks of hair, but the second the silver’s breath ended, she moved forward, quickly blotting out that amaranthine compassion with the black rage. The Forsaken gave no pause to assess the damage he attained, instead gripping the skin on his left shoulder, so bitterly close to the previous wound, and pulled. Blood, foul and tangy sweet coated the inside of her mouth before ivory fangs slid from the fur. The shadow of Tinek’s wings crossed over them, and he landed on the fence, his mind a support. “If you need me…” he whispered into the void, the words jumbling and sinking into the inky pit. This battle was far too different to compare to any other. The chaos of their invasion had been an effort to beat as many opponents down while taking little damage, calling orders to her troops and seeking Jackal, the coward who fled argument. Any confidence gained from Elsa was shattered, for the thickly built, pegasus mare had not asked her to dance, had not broken her heart. Here, old wounds and memories cracked open, revealing the festering sores on the other side, having soured from years of being ignored. Funny, how they tasted just like the blood that stained her lips, coated her teeth and filled in the spaces. Ophelia yanked her right, hind leg upward through the pain, inwardly cursing how slow it moved after the fall. Muscles made fists, gasping at use and pulling painfully at her persistence. A sharp, full inhale shoved against bruised ribs, and she stifled a groan, trying to move away lest a larger, feathered hoof cause more damage. He did not deserve to hear her pain. She hid it carefully behind flawlessly erected walls of stunning height – she had had years, after all, to form such defenses. The pale princess of nothing shifted around to his other side, or so she anticipated, but she managed to make it close enough, it seemed. Like a blacksmith’s anvil being thrown from a hill, his head crashed downward, and she barely had time to shift and avoid her own face being broken. Ophelia scrambled on her injuries, unable to avoid the blatant attack entirely. The point of his horn scratched against her withers and ice crashed like a bitter kiss before being thrown from a mountain. His thickly corded jaw and orbit ground against the sensitive curve behind her shoulder blade, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin like a thousand bee stings. Her front, left leg was shoved forward, and she quickly fell to one knee, feeling the grains of sand, so soft beneath her hooves, bite like daggers against her fur. Ophelia pulled her body up in a plowing, forward lunge once the circle of his motion had reached its apex. The pale princess skittered away, muscles in her haunches aching, and she cast a glance back at the thin prick of her own blood that pooled in rubies on her white hairs. The glance was shot back at Mauja, a wall and nothingness behind her stunning, enigmatic eyes. Ophelia did not pause long enough to let their gaze linger. Hooves on stinging limbs gripped the sand again, bringing her closer, and she used the weapon on her brow again in sweeping motion, keen on tearing the gash on his left shoulder cleanly through. With violence, she set fire to her tomorrows, painted over dreams, and took to the stage of lies where she was embraced by the misery of her own company. [[[(3/3) || (796 words ;-; so much more to write) || Summary: Ophelia bites him and moves around to his other side where his head crashes down behind her shoulder, his horn scratching at her withers. She then lunges at him and aims to flay him on the same injury on his left shoulder with her horn. The Space Between - How to destroy angels ]]] |
 Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done. Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning. |
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