the Rift


[PRIVATE] Why Can't We Take These Boxing Gloves Off?

Ki'irha Posts: 176
Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15hh :: 5 years old HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Noella
#1
Ki'irha
I have loved the stars too fondly || To be fearful of the night
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Continued from -this- thread.

The black stallion began to slink away, and the corporal stood sturdy in her spot. A slight wind ruffled her mane as she watched him go. Silver scanned his onyx pelt, satisfaction settling over her at the sight of the dried rust that marred his coat, drawn from him by wounds she had inflicted. An ache bloomed in her muscles as the adrenaline slipped away, and the cool air wicked the sweat from her hide. The feelings that lingered after a spar were typically cathartic, but not today. The healer spoke his snide words and unwarranted advice, and something deep within her chest boiled and bubbled and churned with indignation.

Had they fought the same fight? To call it a fight certainly was an overstatement, as the Latin brute had spent most of the time splashing around in the water like a waterlogged foal, and the rest of the time he was attempting to not run into any trees. Was he expecting a death match? Spars were for training, and in her case, for loosening unused muscles and relieving stress. His commentary was shocking, and for a moment she could only stand, dumbstruck, as he continued his nonsense.

"You haven't been in my shoes," she finally spat, wishing she could infuse actual venom into her words. She stepped forward, eyes stormy beneath furrowed brows. "It is obvious, especially in the way you speak down to me because my most vulnerable pieces don't hang between my legs." Never before had she been so openly objectified, especially not by a fellow warrior. The blue girl knew she had weakness compared to the brawny build of most stallions, but it did not mean she was weaker, or less deserving of her victories. She knew others may have their opinions, and may quietly judge her or attempt to placate her. Nox could never understand the pressures and imposed limitations she had been handed. He could never understand. For a moment, she wondered if anyone would notice his absence. What would the consequences be if she simply ran her horn through his heart? She could come up with a convincing enough story should she be questioned.

"You tell me I have the heart of a king, but you are wrong. Kings can be corrupted by greed and lust. It is not hard to fell a king with the promise of treasure, or make him believe in lies whispered in his ear after his pleasures have been fulfilled. Men are easy to break, they are easy to play, they are easy to ruin. But queens? Queens have the advantage. Our curves are our weapons, and our words can make kingdoms crumble. Strength lays in more than just muscle." Again she stepped closer, hoping to come nearly nose to nose with him, and her eyes softened as a single brow rose. "You may see me as nothing more than a mare, a quiet silly woman who wants nothing more than to pretend she is a warrior. You see a rose, but I can assure you that my petals hide thorns. You tell me I should contain fire in my eyes, but I say you should see ice. Cold blood courses through my veins, and I have no issues nor qualms about killing. I know what I fight for, and what played out today was nothing more than a playful spar, something to keep me occupied and sate my desire to overcome and conquer." Her tail flicked behind her, the only body language she couldn't quite calm, as her voice never deviated from a calm and even sound. "Do not ever doubt my motivations. And do not attempt to lessen the offense of your words by apologizing for 'pissing me off.' You have done much, much worse than causing me minor frustration. You have boxed me into your preconceived notions about what a mare is or is not capable of doing. Your inability to face a woman on the battlefield? That is a weakness on your part, not mine." As she stood, she was doing all she could to keep her body from shaking as unbridled rage swept through her. She would love to pass along his beliefs to Hotaru. Perhaps the great Lady of the Basin would be interested in teaching him a thing or two about weak women?

She allowed her writhing tail to settle, and it curled around a hind hock. The breeze cooled her nerves, and she urged her heart to settle, tried to calm the vibrations that encouraged her to lunge one last time. Her words calmed further still as she let out a single steady exhale. "So tell me this, Mortuus Nox, have you never encountered a powerful woman before? Or have you simply allowed yourself to be played, as I'm sure those pretty, unsuccessful mares led you to believe?"

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Speech
OOC//
Tagged// @Mortuus Nox ~
Image Credit
[Image: 5581b91112f69]
Colored by Kels ♡
Lines by Bronzehalo

Please Tag Me ○ Permission for magic and injury is granted. Just no death or permanent harm.


Messages In This Thread
Why Can't We Take These Boxing Gloves Off? - by Ki'irha - 04-13-2016, 05:37 PM

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