It was greatly disappointing to discover the Pegasus still wished to live. He would have enjoyed ripping her from limb to limb, crushing her beneath the weight of his dominion, his might, his prowess, watching her shatter across the rubble and ruin of their icy empire. She didn’t fall or crumble, appearing to be renewed by her impending demise, the shadow of her tomb, the shudder of her presaged grave. Deimos didn’t mind the pursuit of his prey either way, in the wake of their collapse and degeneration, or in the midst of their revival. Destruction, wreckage and decimation were palatable in any circumstance.
She was bitter, rancorous and eager, awakened by the state of their frenzy. Her attack came amidst his assault, teeth bared for his incriminating stare, to ensnare his sight. To allow her to feed upon his sockets would be a dangerous sanction, and he had no intention of being partially blind. He swung his cranium to the right, and felt the scrape of her dentals graze against his cheek, dragging down in glimpses of torn hair and pelt. A sting, the slightest prick of pain trailed down his face, before the reign of their assailments continued.
She followed after his direction shift, pursuing the demon’s flank amidst his brutal kick. He inclined towards the right once more, stretching across the ice and rime. The fiend’s rapid movement must have shifted the direction of her siege; he sensed the stroke of her ivories cast upon his left haunch, clipping flesh briefly so that more hide became detached. This nuance was more of an aching sentiment, drawn across his quarters in a sharp irritation, vexing and nettling. However, their close proximity allowed him the opportunity he’d been waiting for, the fury of his callous creation, the ferocity of his barbaric incantations, a gift from bedlam, an offering from anarchy.
His nefarious enchantments pulsed from his cold core, drawn from his savage soul, flourished from his vicious veins, purred and crooned from their fervent entropy, twisting and distorting the earth with one pernicious, puissant intention. It was refreshing, invigorating, to release, unchain, the darkened traces of his abhorrence, to bestow it upon his enemies, to await their cringing, withering, decaying forms laying across the Siberian grounds. Death, murder and execution, slaughter, poured from the tip of his hooves, slithering and crawling across the lands in venomous fingertips, the caress of Mephistopheles, lined with poison, arched with bane, malice and ill will, the menace of augured quietus. The monster’s gaze was cast solely, quickly, swiftly, upon Alan, the contorted trace of his piercing stare only offered her one vivid warning before the plunge of his turmoil. Intending to press closer to the Pegasus, he swerved left, wishing to drive the onslaught of his terror, of his horror, into her marrow, into her bones, into her skin, lungs, flesh and soul, tear her heart until it screamed and beckoned for mercy. The simmering, scorching necromancy filtered further onward, towards Sinuhe, not longing for her to be forgotten in the trace of armaments and massacre.
[513 words.
4/4 posts + 0/1 defense. 1/1 magic used.
Deimos sees Africa coming towards his left eye, and swerves right to avoid it getting pierced. Instead, she nicks his left cheek, scraping some hair off. As she pursues him during his kick, he attempts to go to the right once more, and feels the tug of her teeth along his left haunch, detaching more hide. He then tries to use their close proximity to unleash his death magic towards Africa and despite being further away, Sinuhe.]
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
Come not within the measure of my wrath. [Sinuhe & Africa Challenge]
