.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-25-2017, 10:43 AM
"No, no, nooo!" are the incessant shouts of the wicked one, her teeth gnashing and gnawing upon the air as her prey evades her reach. Curse her inept legs, bound to this earth, such a shoddy chalice for her magnanimous spirit! Though the mouse slips upon the snow, and the white witch’s blade dines, it is but a taste of the ambrosia she had wished to bathe in.
Her scream of disgust is snuffed when her mouth is suddenly full of her victim’s tail, which is savagely ripped and shorn as the bitch pivots her head back to spit it away. Still chasing, her hooves splash back into the cold water, her goose-bump prickled flesh ignoring the bite of the cold, for the deeper lash of failure which beats down over her again and again. Each mental strike of that whip draws a bestial roar and snarl from her, where she watches her prey escape on wings she does not have, her legs churning, striking, and lashing out at the water about them, as if each blow might somehow travel the aerial distance between she and her failed hunt.
"Fuck you!" barks the wench, to the water, or the prey, perhaps both, before her demonically cruel face grotesquely twists about towards the shore, long before her body does; her bi-chromatic eyes shift to each shadow with suspicious glares, and she exhales shuddering, wet breaths. The cold bites into her wet skin as she slowly floats back into the wood, her head low, ears endlessly moving atop her crown; occasionally, she looks back, to where the mouse had flown, and mutters to herself, without mirth, without giggles: "next time, little mouse…"
[ OOC: You’re okay. <3 Thank you for the super fun thread Astor! ]
Her scream of disgust is snuffed when her mouth is suddenly full of her victim’s tail, which is savagely ripped and shorn as the bitch pivots her head back to spit it away. Still chasing, her hooves splash back into the cold water, her goose-bump prickled flesh ignoring the bite of the cold, for the deeper lash of failure which beats down over her again and again. Each mental strike of that whip draws a bestial roar and snarl from her, where she watches her prey escape on wings she does not have, her legs churning, striking, and lashing out at the water about them, as if each blow might somehow travel the aerial distance between she and her failed hunt.
"Fuck you!" barks the wench, to the water, or the prey, perhaps both, before her demonically cruel face grotesquely twists about towards the shore, long before her body does; her bi-chromatic eyes shift to each shadow with suspicious glares, and she exhales shuddering, wet breaths. The cold bites into her wet skin as she slowly floats back into the wood, her head low, ears endlessly moving atop her crown; occasionally, she looks back, to where the mouse had flown, and mutters to herself, without mirth, without giggles: "next time, little mouse…"
[ OOC: You’re okay. <3 Thank you for the super fun thread Astor! ]
you've lost your demon.
@Yael
Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D
