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09-26-2015, 08:08 PM
‘It’d be rude not to,’ her response is throaty, teasing in just the right way. His anger leaves his chest for his barrel, stirring blood in its floor. The sensation is familiar and alien, for never has he fought a mare under such… unique circumstances. Sure, he’s engaged in playful rough-housing, but never to the extent that drains the emotion in Nyx’s face and turns her pale body into steel. It is distracting, this sensation. Though his body and muscles harden beneath her assessing, icy gaze, he is not preparing for battle. His mind is scattered. Rexanna, Alexander, Nyx’s words— all of these ideas swirling through the haze of anger, lust, and hurt in his large skull. He hadn’t been entirely committed to this spar, he had just followed his fiery thread of anger through the painful fog that had threatened to send him down his hellhole. Did he want to fight right now? Did he want to vie for the chance to mount this mare? He wasn’t entirely certain, but the idea seemed appealing. Extremely appealing. She was athletic, straight forward, and a warrior. Not a lying, manipulative woman. So, when Nyx’s words were followed so closely by her agile attack, the stud was caught relatively off guard. Especially after calling him ’handsome.’ Show me a man who is immune to the flattery, and I’ll show you a liar. Thus, her horn— black, spiraled, and sharp— hit its target with shameful ease. It’s slender spike skated across his thick skin, reverberating over his broad ribs like a washboard. It slid across the hardened muscle tensed on his abdomen and sank shallowly into his flank. The white-hot sting that accompanied the surprise jolted the uncertainty out of his brain. Training took over, responding to the thin line of blood that beaded on his skin and the chunk of gouged flesh on his flank. The fluid was strikingly dark ruby against the silver buckskin— and even brighter against his white banding. The wound nearly traced the black that ran his side, only a few inches above it. So his trained instincts shoved his hind hooves into the ground, bent his hocks, and gathered his haunches. With speed that was surprising for the mammoth (though not nearly as quick as the silver sphinx he fought), his back curved to the right. Thick columns of back legs sprung away from the Grove’s rich soil as he aimed a double barreled kick at her retreating head and neck. The momentum of his kicked aimed to throw her toward the cypress he had broken earlier. Though it was instinct that drove his legs, so the kick was as hard as if he were in battle— not this violently rough foreplay. His twist and kick put his left side along the water’s edge, his right facing the clearing and Nyx. His hooves were massive— both of them nearly the size of her skull. Size was usually his strength in battle. It had been the reason for his quick assent through ranks in his previous life. So his body’s instinct was to use his size— at least while his brain was still a mess of tumultuous emotions. Heartbreak was new for the giant. He had dealt with heart-loss. It was a much more final, gut wrenching, empty affair. But heartbreak was a burning, engulfing feeling. So he grasped onto this burn as his hind end crashed down to earth. It cleared his mind. A thrill of adrenaline jolted his heavy limbs as they smashed onto the ground. His vision sharpened on the tempting, icy soldier. She was smaller, but quicker. Clearly she had fought more recently than the rusty elephant. Dark blue eyes are fixed on her, now. Assessing, appreciating, and giving into the earlier, primal instinct that he had ignored. “I might be rusty, but I think it’s the stallion that does the penetrating,” low and rumbling, his voice added sensuality to the joke he made of her attack and his injury. 1/3 Words: 669 Summary: Nyx’s hit opens a long, thin wound along his right side and a gouge in his flank. He bucks and aims a double barreled kick at her neck and head as she runs past his right side. |
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@Nyx
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