.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
02-06-2015, 12:53 PM
Elsa
My head's underwater, but i'm breathing fine.
My head's underwater, but i'm breathing fine.
Once again the ice doesn’t turn red. It stands there, clear and perfect. How had he avoided that? Her eyes bore into the damn dog. That had to be it. Elsa knew how Edgar, albeit cocky and immature, would still warn her when danger was near. Anger rose within her heart, beginning to heat her veins. Her ignorance was costing her too much. In a tangled mess of flying mane, she rises onto her hind hooves. The momentum she had gained pushing at him like train. Her wing, falling painfully limp against her side was screaming; however, not loud enough. The adrenaline coursing through her body dulled the pain, leaving it feeling almost as if it had never existed.
It flopped against her side as she suddenly hit against something hard. It jarred her knees, sending an electric shock up the front of her legs. This was not the soft flesh she had been hoping to sink into. Her wing glances against the ground, and she is suddenly reminded of all the pain he had caused… In such little time! A strangled cry of rage boils up out of her throat like a screaming teapot. She will not lose to him. "Fuck you." She mutters. He may be the legatus, but she is the mason. Rocks bend to her will, and ice will strike on her command. He was just a lowly man who thought himself fit enough to lead! How dare he! Just because she was better suited for another position, did not mean she was not a legatus in her heart. She was built for this. She could not fail. It would be a hideous scar of humiliation, branded upon her forever.
The white bird could not stand idle any longer. Her humiliation was his, and he would not allow that. Such a prestigious zephyr as himself could not let that weight fall upon him. Watching Rostislav reach in towards his Elsa’s left side, he goes in for the kill. With a squawk of rage, he extends his talons and aims towards Rostislav’s face. Once he thinks he is just above the legatus, he forces down, trying to push his talons into Rostislav’s face while simultaneously boosting himself back into the sky. One perk of wings; danger could be avoided by those not endowed.
Elsa could hear, and feel the rage within Edgar. She didn’t respond to his feelings, for she could already feel how he was coming down towards their opponent. Rostislav had ended up on her blind side again, and so she relied on the images sent by Edgar. He was reaching towards her face! He wanted to mar her again. Hell no bastard. Who do you think you are?! Reaching her face around, she turns to bite at his incoming neck. If he wanted to give her little love bites, she would give them right back. Hoping she had landed, she turns to face in front of her again. She is ready to get out of the way of his teeth. Just then, his ivory grass-smashers clamp down upon the skin of her neck. It isn’t a lot, but the little he managed to grasp sent a screaming hot bullet into her skin. It hurt, so bad. It immediately began bruising as he pulled away. In his wake, he left a purpling, disgusting oblong circle on her pale skin.
Fine then, if he was so eager for her to stay, she would. Plus, her front legs hurt and she wanted to get off them again. Rearing up, she pivoted to hopefully face him before he could retreat. Aiming for his horns and face, she kicked out with all the force she could wrangle up. He was not going to win so easily. In fact, in her mind, he would not win at all. If she believed in herself, she thought she could force his fate upon him. Then, she would win, and he would walk away sulking. That would be the icing that would overpower the taste of bitterness left by his attacks.
"their speech goes here and this is the color
[@[Rostislav] || 2/3 || 678 Words]
It flopped against her side as she suddenly hit against something hard. It jarred her knees, sending an electric shock up the front of her legs. This was not the soft flesh she had been hoping to sink into. Her wing glances against the ground, and she is suddenly reminded of all the pain he had caused… In such little time! A strangled cry of rage boils up out of her throat like a screaming teapot. She will not lose to him. "Fuck you." She mutters. He may be the legatus, but she is the mason. Rocks bend to her will, and ice will strike on her command. He was just a lowly man who thought himself fit enough to lead! How dare he! Just because she was better suited for another position, did not mean she was not a legatus in her heart. She was built for this. She could not fail. It would be a hideous scar of humiliation, branded upon her forever.
The white bird could not stand idle any longer. Her humiliation was his, and he would not allow that. Such a prestigious zephyr as himself could not let that weight fall upon him. Watching Rostislav reach in towards his Elsa’s left side, he goes in for the kill. With a squawk of rage, he extends his talons and aims towards Rostislav’s face. Once he thinks he is just above the legatus, he forces down, trying to push his talons into Rostislav’s face while simultaneously boosting himself back into the sky. One perk of wings; danger could be avoided by those not endowed.
Elsa could hear, and feel the rage within Edgar. She didn’t respond to his feelings, for she could already feel how he was coming down towards their opponent. Rostislav had ended up on her blind side again, and so she relied on the images sent by Edgar. He was reaching towards her face! He wanted to mar her again. Hell no bastard. Who do you think you are?! Reaching her face around, she turns to bite at his incoming neck. If he wanted to give her little love bites, she would give them right back. Hoping she had landed, she turns to face in front of her again. She is ready to get out of the way of his teeth. Just then, his ivory grass-smashers clamp down upon the skin of her neck. It isn’t a lot, but the little he managed to grasp sent a screaming hot bullet into her skin. It hurt, so bad. It immediately began bruising as he pulled away. In his wake, he left a purpling, disgusting oblong circle on her pale skin.
Fine then, if he was so eager for her to stay, she would. Plus, her front legs hurt and she wanted to get off them again. Rearing up, she pivoted to hopefully face him before he could retreat. Aiming for his horns and face, she kicked out with all the force she could wrangle up. He was not going to win so easily. In fact, in her mind, he would not win at all. If she believed in herself, she thought she could force his fate upon him. Then, she would win, and he would walk away sulking. That would be the icing that would overpower the taste of bitterness left by his attacks.
"their speech goes here and this is the color
[@[Rostislav] || 2/3 || 678 Words]
- Any force can be used against Elsa.
- Please tag any posts that involves Elsa.
