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09-03-2013, 02:14 PM
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CIRCE I hate pegasi, the shadowmere thought with a snarl in her throat. Typical. Instead of facing the wrath of the Executioner head on and confronting the punishment of her obtuse actions with dignity, Phaedra had taken off into the air, a frightened popinjay reeling from the claws of an unleashed hell-cat. Leaning towards the left with her chest and curling her body away from the petite, flailing limbs, Circe dodged the kick, but her anger mounted as she watched the dainty fawnling soar through the air for some beats. It aggravated the shadowmere even more that her own hooves had not met their mark—and for some moments, the urge to use her Black Magic and rip the spy from the star-strewn winds and onto ground suffused the Executioner’s body and mind. Phaedra landed, though, before Circe could unleash her arcane abilities, choosing to insult the sorceress once more; no matter. As soon as those delicate hooves touched ground, Circe was already moving toward her. There was no wind to howl, and the air remained balmy and sweet—the complete opposite of how Circe felt inside. How could someone who would normally be so insignificant rile the shadowmere so? The truth was in the bent pride in Circe’s chest; the grains of honesty from Phaedra’s mouth seemed to drop into the cogs that worked the shadowmere’s psyche, interrupting smooth, correct function, causing a blockage of pent-up energy and frustration to come to the fore of her mind. Because these were things Circe thought about herself; these were the thoughts that caused sleep to evade her countless times. What reason was there for this….glittery thing to run off into battle, and for Circe to keep to the herd lands, again, and watch the action from the sidelines, again? An answer sprung into being and into her mouth as she continued to stalk toward Phaedra. “I stayed to protect these borders from intrusion,” she said with staccato tones, bitter notes tumbling from her lips sharp as tacks, aiming to pierce the Shadow who dared provoke the Executioner so, “because I do not ask trespassers to our home if ‘they missed me’. I am dog on chain? I am loyal bitch instead of loose one.” At this, the shadowmere broke into a charge with blazing eyes, angling a little to her right, her hind hoofs digging into the dirt and sliding slightly on a dewy patch of grass; she raised her head some, as it was not in her intention to pierce Phaedra, but to ram into her with the left point of her shoulder, to use her broader chest, her thicker body, to crash into the fragile bones of the Pegasus as a battering ram might puncture through a brittle pane of glass. As she moved, Circe extended her long teeth, aiming to clamp her jowls somewhere along the left side of Phaedra’s long, elegant neck, wanting to pierce skin, taste blood, cause pain—anything, anything at all, to punish this impertinence. ~.~.~.~.~ [W/C: 506 2/3 PC, 0/1 PC 0/1 MC Dodges Phaedra's kick by curling away towards the left; as Phaedra lands, stalks toward her once more, breaking into a charge as she gets closer. Aims to ram Phaedra with the point of her left shoulder, and tries to bite somewhere along the left side of Phaedra's neck. __________ Circe | GaitedxSmallDraft | 0VP Strength: 6 Speed: 6 Agility: 5 Endurance: 4 Offense Item: 0 Defense Item: 0 Amulet: 1 Magic: 0 Companion: 0 HP: 22 x2 = 44 Defense: 7.5 Attack: 6.5 (includes +2 for being a warrior) Damage: 5.] |
