I don't know what has gotten into me. Well, that isn't true. On one level I know exactly what it is, I just don't know the name for it. It's this hostile mix of jealousy, and hate, and exaggerated self-pity. I'm sure you can see now when it's easier to say that I don't know what the feeling is. To admit that I do, is to admit that I've taken things way too far. I know I should stop. I should seek out a rational and appropriate way of dealing with my feelings rather than running headfirst into self destruction, but dammit this feels good. When this hate-induced high is over I'll be back in the real world, and will have to deal with my problems. But for now, I know that pain will drown it all out.
How do I know? Because of her. I don't know her name, only that she had come at me when I had asked for it. She had given me the ass-kicking of a lifetime (literally. But only because I had never had my ass kicked before). And you know what? As much as it hurt, there is nothing in the world that has filled me with more joy, than when I kicked her square in the face, and felt her body give way and her breath shoot in ragged bursts from her chest. What a horrifying thought, believe me I know. That's why I don't want to think about it - don't want to think about how fucked up I have let myself become. I just need to feel that high one more time, and then I'll deal with it.
Spoken like the start of a true junkie. But maybe it won't matter. Maybe no one will even be surprised. Son of Gaucho, likes to fight. Sounds like a real headline.
Not.
I came without warning, without provocation or care. I came hard and fast, or at least as hard and fast as I could through the mud. I felt my limbs straining to keep me balanced as I forced myself forward, ignoring the rain as it splattered my forelock into my eyes. I was too arrogant to fall in the mud - though using my slightly spread wings as balancing aids didn't hurt either. I think I heard myself scream, but I couldn't really be sure. All I could focus on was the smear of white, and the knowledge that I was about to get my fix. One way or another I would have it. Either old white smear would knock me so hard that adrenaline would soothe my aches, or I would knock her. I was an equal opportunity junkie - I'd take it or deal it, didn't matter to me.
But I would have it one way or another. Unless white smear was an extreme pacifist, I was fairly sure that anyone would try and kick the ass of some punk stallion who just attacks them out of nowhere.
I come at white smear (who I can now clearly see is a pegasus mare, despite the rain), from sort of an angle on her right side from behind. There's no strategy involved other than the fact that this is where my current trajectory had taken me. I'm bigger than her, but I don't really think about that - I don't have the experience to know what matters and what doesn't. All I know is I have speed on my side, which, given the terrible footing might not actually help.
Here goes nothing.
I aim to slam my left shoulder into her right side - somewhere just behind her shoulder. Without thinking, my jaw shoots forward to try and bite just behind the right side of her cheek.
WC: 623
Attack: 1/3
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[JUDGED] Let It Wash Away My Sanity [Rhoa Spar]
