the tempest of an unrelenting sea

Blood blooms so differently above the waves. Beneath the sea, blood billows out into the salt water, taking delicate and beautiful shapes— artwork dedicated to those who succeed in the martial arts. On land, beneath the sharp edges of her webbed hooves, this giant brute’s blood slips and leaks down his legs towards the earth. It was… almost unsatisfying.

What is even more unsatisfying is the taste of the blood droplets that film her sharp teeth. The black behemoth’s movements had brought his pulsing lifeblood out of her snapping jaws, but she still scores small rakes in the meaty muscle of his neck. Usually, such a bite would bring the pleasurable taste of flesh into her mouth. But his blood, the blood of a land-dweller, tastes metallic and dirty. It is heavy, an earthen flavor that coats her tongue and expels out her nostrils. She spits it from her mouth, distaste flashing plainly on her face, replacing the heat she had felt from his closeness and laughter just moments before.

Her skin bursts into light as his dragons scream from above, aqua lines bright strips of light against black scales in the moonlit night, making her innate mistrust of flying creatures visibly known. In the sea, flashing lights and bright colors are a warning of danger. Here, on land, it seems that this trait is traitorous. It is an announcement, and open invitation: “Here I am and I feel threatened. Take advantage!”

A growl of frustration thunders from her throat— why is he not succumbing to her poison? How is he still on his hooves, fighting? Her eyes widen fractionally— did she no longer have poison in her tail? She no longer ate the deadly fish that was the Akvian delicacy; malsana fish did not live in the waters, here. Were her barbs empty? Were they—

Her distracted, panicked thoughts are interrupted by the earth growing beneath her right hoof. In her moment of shock, she breaks the cardinal rule of sparring: never take your eyes off of your opponent. But her overlarge globes cannot help dropping to the rock that suddenly sprouts beneath her hoof. Did the very earth turn against those of the sea? No, it must be him— she scrambles to throw her body to the left, off of this earth-cursed rock, ripping her gaze back to her opponent.

“Fikato!*” The snarled curse was cut short as his striking right hoof solidly connects at the  juncture of her left jaw and neck. She feels the tear of the sharp, delicate fin tucked there, as well as the sickening separation of plates and scales that give way beneath the colossal hoof. Blue blood wells to the surface as she rights her head, refocuses her dangerously flashing gaze with part of her fin dangling beside her jaw.

An alien, unearthly, aquatic scream tears from her throat. And she attacks— the anger at his insult of damaging her fin making her forget that she is on land (despite the sand that flies from his hooves). She crouches and bounds, unleashing the athletic power in her corded haunches, aiming to launch herself beneath his monstrous rear. Her bladed horn arcing and slashing, intending to slice the tender flesh of his belly. If his skin gave so easily beneath her teeth, then surely it would be no match for her horn.

Too late does she realize that gravity exists here; that buoyancy does not suspend her opponent above her. An attack that would have worked in the sea could bring her into a deadly position on land. Mid-attack, hisses escape her scaled lips.

WC: 604
A: 3/3
D: 0/1
Damage Tracker: lightly bruised right side of withers; bleeding wound and torn wound at juncture of left jaw/neck
Summary: She tries to leap beneath his rearing body (oops) and slash open his barrel with her horn.

*Fikato= a bad word :x