OH GOD HE STARTED TO SCREAM.

You were hearing it without even having to rely on my own senses through our bond, listening to the majestic echos of a poor boy's terror, and I swear if tiny shit lizards had the vocals to laugh, your ass would’a been grass and gone because you were rolling in my head at the poor kid. I wasn’t even touching him yet and there was probably a steady yellow stream running thick and free down the side of one o’ his legs. What a shame.

There was a part of me—a protective sort of part, a part that had a weakness for tiny things—that begged my charging ass to take it easy on him. Turn around! Slow down! He’s not worth the fight! Look at him—he’s falling apart at a charge! Don’t scar the poor children, Ros! It was the only voice that cried out so passionately amongst the other parts of me in my head—some twenty-seven voices I would guess? All of which promptly ignored her ass, and good thing, too. Because this boy had literally picked a fight with the world and the world will eat you alive even when you try to mind your own damn business—and this kid needed to learn how to take the teeth of the universe or sit your ass down somewhere to avoid the bite.

I’ll be honest. I probably would have fell out laughing like you if I weren’t already in battle-mode. And in battle-mode, you don’t actually think about what you’re doing. It’s action-reaction. So when the boy screamed, I belted right back at him, except my scream was more like a ROAR and my eyes widened into something fierce and nuts and I peeled back my lips and there was a little tongue showing somewhere--

--and I kept running for the crying babe—right up ‘til the last minute, where I straightened my out my legs and dug them into the ground, skidding to a stop. I had been moving too fast to stop all too quickly, which was perfect, because I was aiming to jab the point of my left shoulder into him as he passed and I hadn’t wanted to accidently pass by him—

--but as we crashed I was caught off guard by how large this man-baby actually was, not really a mountain of a thing but still taller than me with a thicker chest than I had estimated (and flaming wings too, gosh, what’s with all the flaming wings--) and even though I had barreled into him with the full force of my charge I still hit something a lot more solid than I intended, and the shock of it jarred my shoulder blade all the way to my back and down my vertebrae and yeah, that was gonna be a nasty bruise for sure.

He was still moving passed me and his flame-crusted (heat-less?) wing sort of clipped me upside the head a little as we came close, scratching my eyes and obscuring my vision for a moment-- but I had dug in at just the right time to come to enough of a stop to gather myself underneath me and pivot on my hind hooves toward my left, turning my body to follow his movement—

--and as I launched myself at him in our close quarter range, a was roaring a great big “RAAAAAAAAAARGH,” with an ugly sort of snort-snarl in the back of my throat (okay bite me I was laying it on kinda thick) as I bared my teeth and aimed for the left side of his neck, to sink as much of my teeth in him as possible; to make him squeal a little bit more.




[WC:627
PC: 2/3]



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