Thunder rolls overhead, and for a moment my euphoric mind tries to convince me that the cause was my shoulder hitting white smear. Yes, yes I hungrily agree with my inner demons, who coax and purr in the back of my mind. The heavens themselves mirror my movements. I am idiotic and drunk on the power that floods my mind, as Elsa's body is shoved away from me. Have I hurt my own shoulder during this assault? If I have, I can't feel it. I am Rhoa. God of Thunder.
My teeth clamp down on the fleshy part behind her cheek, and I yearn to taste blood. For a moment I am envious of wolves and their sharpened fangs. My teeth are flat and don't have the force to break the skin the way canines might. Still, pinching the folds of her skin together is satisfying. As I let go, I let the taste of her rain-soaked skin linger on my tongue.
I think two thoughts: The first is that I am invincible. The second, is that I am going insane.
She pivots, and hubris holds me in place. What will white smear do? Is she running? A laugh begins in the back of my throat but is abruptly cut off by the powerful kick of a quarter horse. Amused sounds twist into a wheeze as air is forced out of my lungs. I feel the shape of her hooves on my chest like two brands, and through the pain my mind still finds a way to warp the scenario: I will have circles, rather than stripes like Father ... I sharply inhale, and find myself slightly overloaded now.
Thunder. It rumbles in my ears and for some reason hinders my sense of direction. Where is she? It's too noisy .. if only the thunder could be a little quieter..
Lightning. Flashes of light burn into my eyes and suddenly white smear has multiplied. I see remnants of her every where I turn my head.
Pain. My front legs scream as I try to regain my footing in the mud. My legs are forced to comply, regardless of how much the muscles in my chest protest.
I cannot fall. I am Rhoa. God of Thu-
I can see clearly now, even though the rain hasn't gone. She is right before me.
I feel her teeth on my left shoulder, and the world screams back into focus. Pain ebbs outwards from my shoulder, and I clamp down on my tongue to keep from crying out. Instinctively I try to raise myself up slightly, leaning back on my hind end. If I can, I will simultaneously use white smear for balance, while hitting her in the face and shoulder with my hooves. I have forgotten about the pain in my chest, but as my hooves flail to try and find her, I am reminded.
I scream as my hooves aim for the markings on her shoulders. My hind legs continually try to readjust themselves, but the mud beneath me is becoming even more saturated with water. As I let myself drop back to all fours, I try and shove forward one last time into white smear.
The part of me that is still me, the part hidden deep inside my mind hiding from the demons who have taken over, is horrified. That part of me knows why I call her white smear, and if I could only get passed the demons and remind myself, perhaps this will all end. I call her white smear, because to call her anything else admits that she is alive. Her build is thicker, taller and her body splattered with more blue, but it is undeniable that she bears a resemblance to Mother. And if she bears a resemblance to Mother, then perhaps she has children of her own. And even if not, she is alive. She does not deserve this.
But I can't say anything, and so I stay hidden. I let the demons do their work, and I feel their hold becoming more insistent.
My mind is divided. I am going crazy.
WC: 667
Attack: 2/3
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[JUDGED] Let It Wash Away My Sanity [Rhoa Spar]
