| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
The girl's face was fair and calm, her expression remaining blank but interested as she approached him. Despite this, he couldn't help but feel it was all a mask, something to hide her true intentions behind. After all, the blood that stained her ice blue horn was hardly an indication of civility, but rather evidence of brutality. Murdock held his ground, silver hooves planted firmly in the melted snow, wings pulled against his sides as the harsh wind tore at his feathers. He would allow her a chance to prove otherwise, but he hardly placed any trust in her for the time being.
Suddenly, he noticed a faint tremor start in her legs, travelling up from her knees to her slender chest. He frowned slightly, but swiftly dismissed it as a shiver. The wind was harsh and icy, biting deep into his coat despite the barrier of his wings. The girl lifted her head, pale blue eyes studying him critically, and in an instant something seemed to change in her. Rage welled up in her eyes, her fore hooves raising off the ground as she reared up. A terrible shriek tore from her throat, slicing through the roar of the wind like a knife. Startled, Murdock stumbled backward, shying away instinctively from her wayward hooves.
For a moment, he remained quiet; he didn't want to speak, nor even move. It was unclear to him what had set her off and he didn't dare unhinge her further. His face contorted into a frown as she stepped toward him, her movements smooth and languid like a feral cat. He recoiled from her advance alongside the metal dog, sensing danger as it hung tangible in the air. He would not run, for he was not a coward; but he was not stupid, and he would not simply stand still while she beat him senseless, as he guessed that was her plan. He anticipated the lunge she made for the right side of his body, her icy gaze lingering a moment too long upon the smooth joint of his wing. Swiftly, he pivoted to the left on his forehand, stepping back with a startled snort as a small hoof landed a kick to his ribcage.
Lurching sideways away from her, Murdock spun around toward the pale mare. His jaw was slack, his face a mix of confusion and anger. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" He spat, emerald eyes glaring venomously at the mare. It had not been long since the invasion of the Foothills, and his muscles were still stiff from the battle. All along, her eyes had held a shadow of danger, though her attack had still come as a shock. But what had lead her to target him?
Racism. That must be it; for he had done little else to stoke her ire. This particular predicament was not unlike the one he had been faced with in the marsh, where d'Artagnan and his hellhound had tried to push him into the vile waters. This time, however, he was confronted by a younger mare and her metal hound. He almost laughed at himself, amused by his ability to constantly find himself in familiar situations. Sometimes he felt as though he ran in circles; his peculiar behaviour always warranted odd interactions or questioning of his sanity, and apparently now he had a knack for attracting unwanted attention.
However, he would not retaliate to the girl's attack, nor make any move to strike back at her. He had done nothing to deserve her anger, yet it would seem that simply existing was crime enough. He was not violent by nature, though the young mare tested his patience and he was unsure how long he would manage to dance his way out of danger using words. He shook his head, damp forelock falling over his eyes as his ears were pinned back against his head. "Just what do you think you're doing?" He imagined it would be a rather redundant question, but he couldn't think of a smart remark with which to counter her actions.
"talk talk talk"
Wind me up, put me down
Start me off and watch me go
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Image Credit
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[O] Blood Stains on the Snow [Snö, Open]
