White December

There in the distance, a prayer answered; if she had prayed at all. Laced in gold with wings adorning his back, the brute made his approach, clearly not pleased with the thistles as well. They left her skin irritated, mouth longing to rip them from their places nestled into her coat to relieve the itch that plagued her mind. There wasn't time for that now; it was time to kick some ass. He had come looking for a fight, and it was fight she was going to give. In his eyes she could see it; the burning passion to thrust themselves into the throes of battle, to tear at each other's flesh and sink hooves into delicate muscles, and that thought excited her a little, made her want to just charge him now and tear at one of those gaudy wings on his back. He was a little feminine, gold spots accenting his inky form, and unlike her thicker stature he was more lithe, shorter than she but mostly likely a lot faster. It didn't matter; she had sheer force on her side, able to plow through quite a lot before she tired. She would have to test just how far she could go on this poor guy.

His words seemed to be mocking, at least that's how she took them in this sweltering day where her body was tired of the heat and her patience was nonexistent. Snorting, a glare gleamed in her eyes, smoky lips pulling back to reveal her white chompers, snarling in her lower tone with a sudden ferocity, "Fight me bro." She had heard someone else say that once, but it had sounded much cooler falling from their lips than her own. From her it sounded awkward, like she was an older adult trying to be hip with all the younger generations, so desperate to fit in despite her obviously being dated. Well, she wouldn't be saying that again. Suddenly that pretty little necklace around his neck she assumed to just be a meaningless accessory began to grow, engulfing him in dark metal and shielding his body, leaving very little of him available for her to rip into. How annoying. The guy couldn't even fight without some sort of protection, and it was quite the protection. Horns stuck out the top of the helmet, and scale-like pieces overlapped each other; providing a tougher skin than his own. Not to mention more armor over his knees and hocks.

The visual reminded her of a mother sending her child out on a skateboard with bubble wrap all over them. Snorting, she rethought her battle plan briefly. Looking him over for any available spots of weakness, she searched for anything that she could injure without hurting herself. Suddenly she burst forward, muscles rippling beneath her large haunches as she lurched in his direction, teeth still bared and jaws parting in an attempt to close down on flesh. She had aimed for his right ear, curving her body to the right as she did so but keeping her skull close, stretching her neck out as far as she could so that she might happen to clamp down on the appendage. She only hoped that she wouldn't scrape against that armor of his. Should she hit, she would try and tug, not hard enough to rip the thing off mind you, but to make sure that fucker was sore for the next few days.

She continued to run past him, carrying herself a few feet away and turning, making sure he was never out of sight; never in a blind spot should he try something funny. He may be smaller, and most likely a little more fragile, his build gave him flexibility and speed, something she was never quite good at. He was the hare, and she the tortoise, but everyone knew who won in that fable. She lowered her head defensively, dials buried in an abundance of tangled mane, and teeth still bared, her limbs slightly splayed so she was planted firmly on the ground, ready to bear any hit he might give. She would be prepared, no matter what he threw her way, she would take it head on and throw him to the ground like the little scrap he was. She may not be very experienced in the ways of fighting, but she was certainly confident in her own strength, knowing just how much she could handle, and what sent her past her breaking point. This man, whoever he was, certainly wasn't going to be pushing any limits today.

"Speech"
Text
Thought

{WC: 762 according to Microsoft Word 2007
Tag: @[Bucephalus]
OOC: Summary: Sizes Buce up and checks out his armor, before charging him on the right side and trying to bite and tear at his right ear. She tried to keep her body far away but her head close by stretching her neck while she ran past him. She turned around behind him and planted her feet in the ground to prepare for his attack. }