The running was terrifying. Watching him in front of her was bittersweet. On one hand, he was the representation of them all. Taking him down would bury all the pain and anguish. It was a fantastic solution to the problem, but it needed to work for it to end. Lighting pulsed in front of her then, lighting up Rhoa’s body like a Christmas tree. Funny thing was, he wasn’t even moving. As she added one final lunge, the body she expected to be there was nowhere to be found. Instead, the imprint upon her eyes began to fade. The Rhoa that she lunged for was no longer there. A brief moment of panic began to arise, within her vision everything seemed to be blurry and unrecognizable. All the fake images were melting into the real one. As her eyes blink rapidly to find reality, she can hear Rhoa to her left. He yells, screaming out incoherent thoughts and ranting about how she was mocking him. Seriously? She did not know him, and he was the fucking idiot who attacked her. He was a child in a man’s body, and she had apparently insulted him. A scoff flows down her throat like water, naturally and smooth. Of all the attacks she had done on him, and after he attacked her, he was getting mad because she had insulted him? Of all the idiots of the world, Rhoa was the king of dunceville. First off, not a single insulting word was uttered. Second of all, did he not realize that he was the one who had instigated this fight? He must be a deranged little child, born of two equally crazed parents. Then again, her children were not so different, were they?

There is no time for these thoughts, for her body has already moved her forward. Her blind side would not consciously allow her to stay there. Rhoa goes flying past, where exactly, she cannot see. The earth slides and squelches beneath her, rolling the ends of her tail into disgusting mud dreadlocks as she maneuvers to try and see him. Lighting crackles behind her this time, illuminating the area for a moment to create a crystal clear picture. Rhoa, from what she could gather, was now in front of her since she had turned. His body looked ripe for the taking, and she would obliterate that big frankenstein if it killed her. Thunder clashes overhead, the sound nearly rumbling the ground beneath her. With the war cry sounded, Elsa pushes off, and attempts to chase after Rhoa.

The leaves seemed to be screaming and crying under the weight of the storm. Elsa wanted out of this mess as much as the trees did. Nature never was and never will be beautiful to her. Like a yin-yang, there is always a little bad in the good. Just so happens, Elsa seems to be living in every single crevice of the dark. So this is the bad; When she thinks she reaches his left shoulder, trying to follow the sound of his footsteps in the dark, she lunges one more time. In unison, she reaches out her teeth to grab on to any part of his neck. The earth cries beneath her shifting wake, springing small droplets of earth across her hide. Her beauty did not matter anymore. The girl that was once pristine, proper and perfect had descended to such a level of indecency that she could not recognize herself. The spun and tangled mane, dull eyes, and soiled, off-white body represented an entirely new era. The dark ages had descended upon her, and every time she tried to claw her way out, she was just pushed back down with the butte of a gun. She would be forever bruised, forever broken, and never again a gentle soul. The princess had become a monster in the night. See? No good exists for her.


"Talking"
[3/3 Attacks || 652 Words || Thanks for the spar Aud. ^^]

Elsa