Like a victim of a fire, iron laced his throat like acrid smoke. Blood no longer stains muzzle or teeth, but with every swallow, every breath, Kipp swears he can taste it; feel it running in rivulets down his throat. Only trace shadows linger of the drug that had transformed the kindly yearling into a vicious monster, cruel whispers that made limbs twitch and temper flare. The venom of a tiny bite had ripped open a chest of darkness that had been locked away; a guilty secret inside his soul. Did bloodlust hide within them all? Had Mandrake infected every son with her genetics? A skeleton his family had kept hidden in their personal closets had appeared in his as well, seemingly overnight. Yet, there was no remorse in the scraps of his conscience after that bloody night. Aware of every action, Kipp had been a spectator to his own violence- watched hooves slice pewter hide, draw delicious crimson. Together, the minions had ended the life of the demon that ruined them. Casimir had seemed to change just as much, but where Kipp rose from the ashes with a budding understanding of his released inner darkness...Casimir had shattered.

Little time had passed since Mandrake’s return to hell. Grumpily, he recalls how sweat had tainted the coat of every Son that night. But the fittingly hellish heat of the Heart seemed weak in comparison to the current weather. Cloudless day gave the sun full dominance- as if rebelling against autumn, the fury of a Tallsun heatwave scorched the earth, and in turn beat against his spine relentlessly. This only soured his already foul mood. Breed-defining Sturdy hooves slam the earth, temper spiking. Silt and dust explode from the ground, easily displaced with the lack of hydration in the soil.

Crowned boy snorted angrily at this. Like a confined tempest he was ready to destroy his container; unleash still-unfamiliar rage. Demolish, dominate. Indulgently, he’s answered; feminine scream shatters the silence, challenging any who dare answer her call. Slight curl of lips betrays his sick delight. He runs, and time slips by unnoticed, distance meaningless- he will accept. Hazy horizon hides nothing as he hunts her down relentlessly, and finally her form is revealed and immediately analyzed. Older, yet smaller in stature- a china doll in comparison. But he's aware of how dangerous a single mare can be. Faces her directly, unmoving. Calculating.

There's hardly a need for words, so none spill forth. She has called him here, after all. She knows why he’s arrived, that he accepts her challenge. And the tempest unleashes in a violent surge of motion. Growl shakes pewter throat, powerful thighs shoving him forward. Mandrake's blood sings praise for obtaining her composition; his sick, unwanted gift of her relation. He observes Zdravilo while crossing the distance between them- antlers sprout from her brow, moderately sized but immediately categorized as extremely dangerous. Kipp's sharp horn was made for slicing and stabbing. Those appendages were meant for brutal defensive blows. But he'd been trained for this since birth. Memories croon agreement; Casimir's blinding, Emerson's abandonment, Archibald's ruthlessness. A twisted cycle. He stops trying to balance the good and evil, Mandrake’s machine once more. There's nobody to impress when the monsters within howl for blood and battle, after all.

It's soon clear that as strong and precise as he is, he'd not been gifted with swiftness. Legs sprout tall, one of Emerson's attributes, but this is all he has in the area of speed. If he got close instead...veering sharply to his right- her left- crown sank in preparation for the next phase of his plan. Once he thought he was out of her range, he swooped abruptly left, hoping the slight angle would make turning her antlers quickly difficult. Kipp lurched, intending to slam her directly behind the elbow.

Blood floods his mouth with no accompanying fluid, a phantom. The youth would show her that demons existed; let her burn in the flames of the lingering poison. Heart pounds. Ears buzz. Battle sirens wail lustfully in his mind. Head still low as if herding her, horn threatening her, Kipp grinned wildly. Quivered in absolute delight as he neared her. The starving wolf targeting the naive lamb. Fangs well-hidden in a baby face. Temporarily.

Hoping to have reached her left side, horn angled in an attempt to slice the topmost part of her left flank. Should it land, it wouldn't be too deep. He was still too tall, it would likely cut across the top of her left hip at most. If it didn't land, his wide Irish chest and sloping Appy shoulders still angled in an attempt to slam her and knock the wind from her lungs. He'd burn her with flames the devil herself had sown in his heart.

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WC: 800
Attack: 1/4
Defense: 0/1
Notes: Sorry for the wait ^^