the .s o u n d. of madness [open]

the Rift

the .s o u n d. of madness [open]

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380

Deceased

Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE

RayoDeSoleil

#10

09-17-2012, 10:53 PM (This post was last modified: 09-17-2012, 10:54 PM by Psyche.)

You can sleep with a gun but

When you gonna wake up and fight?

My work here is done. A malicious smile, matching the glinting amber eyes, spread across the ebony mare's maw. She could smell the tobiano's fear, and she soaked it up, relishing in it. How she loved the power that this gave her, the heady rush of adrenaline in her veins. Even the anger of the painted femme did not scare her, despite the fact that she was much larger in size than Psyche. Indeed, a snicker worked its way from the Unicorn's throat as she pranced in place, clearly pleased with herself. It was all fun and games - until Mauja was mentioned.

Eyes narrowed. A new feeling replaced her exhilaration of moments before: anger. "Don't you dare speak of Mauja as if you know him," she hissed, auds pinned flat against her nape as she stalked closer to the fae. "Listen to yourself, you fool. Don't you know that he allows none but the horned to enter his herd? Why do you think that is?" She waited now, wanting to see her words sink in. A comment about the Qian - something that Psyche had not heard of previously - was not lost on the mare, but she was blinded by fury. The Qian was a question for a later time, for another being. Thoughts of pursuing the femme who was clearly so eager to leave had vanished - now Psyche simply wanted her out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, they say. Not true for the dark one - no one who scorned her was ever out of her mind. She would carry a vendetta for this paint, that was for sure.

She took advantage of her pause, studying the mare's bulky form, the splotches of ebony and white, committing the attributes to her memory. "Leave. Now," Psyche spat, never the first to turn away. She would solve this problem. She would go to Mauja herself. Surely he had not turned to weaker ways. No, his hatred for the inferiors was too strong for that - wasn't it? Yes, it was, and Psyche would go to him and prove it. There were other days for this femme - she would be one of those who would be killed in months to come, as Psyche purged the land. But for now, she would live. If only she would leave.

Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.

Psyche

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