Another call echoed her own; the ominous sound ringing in her skull like a distant foghorn. It rumbled and tumbled like a scramble signal across her brain, a defibrillating zap, pulling her back to reality. Her blue eyes took on a burning passion, emanating pure heat and determination. She would not be brought down today. The queen would not be pulled down, among this dark world she would thrive.

The opponent, Cheveyo, finally arrived. There was no time for formalities anymore. Elsa was bent on proving, beating and dominating. She would not lose. Her loss with Oxy was fine, her win against Storm, invigorating. Yet, now, she needed to make herself known. If there was one thing Elsa learned, was that there was a need for fear. The white, pristine presence had to haunt the nightmares of some, or she again would let herself be consumed by trying to make everyone happy. A sideways, cocky smile fell onto her lips like venomous honey. Adieu to the happy, go-lucky girl, lying in her wake was the shattered heart and soul. The one left behind by a broken past.

She didn’t even tell the painted mare her name. She didn’t even bow. Nothing. She burst into a run at Cheveyo. Cheveyo stood not far in front of her, maybe a few paces, but nothing not to terribly far. One thing was set in stone; Cheveyo was closer to her than her sanity. The muscles in her hindquarters ripple, contracting with every forceful pound of her back legs. Each hoof thundered against the ground as she moved. Blue, perfectly shaped hooves beat the grass that was already dead. She supposed it was better to make sure that they were already dead. No need to keep the lives that were barely hanging on, alive. Much like herself she supposed, one could easily get rid of her with that logic. She was barely alive, barely here herself.

With unfocused anger, she wailed. It came from her throat, the sound of a broken record. A final lunge, and she moved towards Cheveyo’s left side. She reached, and tore, and pulled. Ivory teeth tried to purchase the flesh along her body, hopefully tearing it apart so Cheveyo could feel the pain. Cheveyo could feel what it was like to be torn apart, she could feel the pain of a thousand needles poking her. Elsa just wanted to let go. She wanted so badly for the mare’s wretched red markings to stain her tears red.

Elsa could envision it now, the blood, the red droplets staining the perfectly cool, brown earth. She could see the dead body now; see the heat leaving the body, slowly having to succumb to the cold. Maybe then they would understand what it was like to be trapped in the cold. Once you enter, you could never leave.

As she tried to run past the mare, another broken cry tumbled from her vocal cords. Never before had she made her pain so obvious. The pain was so open to the world, and the most emotionally exposed she would ever be. Elsa circled around, hoping she was facing Cheveyo from behind. She wanted the girl to come. She dared her to rip her to shreds. Elsa needed to feel alive, she needed the pain; she needed to know she hadn’t already died. Cheveyo needed to save her.

[ooc; 563 words || 1/3 attacks, 0/1 defense (final post).]
@[Cheveyo]
"Talking"

Elsa