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The winds carried change within their soft folds. An electric surge seemed to reverberate from the Falls and her bountiful bosom; Essetia had not missed it. Everything appeared to fall still around her and time slowed to a painful drag… Her skin crawled with the supernatural aftershock of magic, the blanketing sensation of fear and failure. It cooled her trembling flesh, but only uncomfortably so. The painted Lord had managed to tear a long, jagged gash along her left side and each time she moved it coursed with new and vibrant pain. It felt as though a fire had blossomed along her flesh, raced across its surface and finally exploded into an inferno of iron resolve.
But Essetia only felt numb.
It was as if she knew the fight was over for her, that she had handed him her white flag and held her tongue to the side, defeated. She had wanted to prove herself while simultaneously easing the evident sorrow that festered in unseen wounds upon the stallion’s heart. After all, he had not decided to summon magic and a storm of sand if not troubled by something larger than he… Essetia had only sought to soothe him and therein, soothe herself.
But nothing was calmed in battle. Everything was only heightened, exploited. No longer did she feel joyous in landing attack upon already wounded skin. No longer did she experience anger or excitement or determination. Nothing had been spared in this fight. Indeed, Essetia had managed to strike tender muscle in lashing out at the painted Lord, but it did not relax jarred thoughts or wounded pride. Instead, it recalled old memories of days past, images of love and family that were no longer.
No, there had been no rhyme or reason behind this fight nor would she ever claim as much. But now her body felt just as mottled at her heart.
When hind hooves touched the soft soil, the mare cringed with the might of force and agony combined. Her neck pulsed as crimson trailed along the deep earthen fur and her stomach shook with a deep, burning ache. She had no options left, no way to escape her fate any longer. Quickly she cast a pale gaze back at the stallion, pleading for release. However, all she saw was blind rage- his vision impaired by whatever demons she had evoked. “I-,” she choked on a tired breath.
But Essetia was not given time just as she had not allowed it…
The ground began to tremble underfoot and the mare turned her eyes slowly to the shuddering of the tall grasses. It was then that she understood what was expected of her… if she did not fall, the stallion’s cruel revenge would go unanswered and that was not something she would assume was tolerable in his case.
It was then that she started to run. Her gait was uneven in her need to outrun whatever hurricane was to come; she had seen it in his eyes… Images of both her father and mother came to mind and mindless fear fell slowly over her sensibility- she was trapped. She had spent so much of her life running from her past and from her indecision and this… this stranger had forced her to face reality.
Fire licked across skin and delved inward, brushing through both bone and muscle until it consumed her. The violent cracking of earth and rock beckoning from behind her warned of the Lord’s impending intent and when it was finally able to match her lopsided stride, her back, right hoof was engulfed in the retreating turf.
With the ground taken from beneath her, Essetia went crashing into the soil beneath her hooves. A wordless cry followed her down in a tangle of limbs and blood. Defeat. It tasted so foul upon her tongue. The soft cracking of strained joints and disgruntled moans joined in with the chorus of her mass thrumming into the turf, soiled and beaten. The mare did not rise from place for fear that bones had been dismantled in the fall but a terrified song rose from her lips, one of mercy and grace and pain…
Her life had transformed, been bent and shifted from her previous spirit. Only anger remained. Anger for being abandoned. Anger for having to take up arms in the Wilds. Anger for having to open her heart to a new and foreign family… and finally, anger for her weakness as it overwhelmed her even now.
When time had allowed her a moment to deliberate her own well-being, Essetia rose from the ground of battle, her back still turned to the painted Lord. She did not offer him well-wishes or praise for his performance and instead opened stride toward their borders… more than happy to walk away.
Word Count: 800
Attack: 3/3
Closing Defense: 1/1
Summary: The splitting of the ground catches her back, right hoof and she is sent sprawling out over the ground. Her body is bruised and battered from the fall.
OOC: THANK GOD. IT’S OVER. You did amazing! Thank you! I had fun. <3 | |
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[JUDGED] Nightlight (Essetia)
