Яikyn

The dragon screams as we meet, the cry clamoring through my warrior’s blood until it is on fire; I don’t notice how odd it is for a beast mighty as she is to turn in terror, or that the body that had been at her clawed feet is now absent as my hooves clatter across roots, rather than flesh. I don’t notice how horse like her movements are, that she smells of snow and pine.

The black world is alive with red tinge of my anger. I notice nothing else but the ways I might punish her for the imaginary death of my kin.

The blood that flies from the scaled breast of the wingless dragon is bright and gleams in the black world, spraying like luminescent lava across the silvery pencil sketches of the leaves below. She scrambles to regain lost footing, and I feel the surge of having struck a successful blow ripple through me, extending in an audible cry of delight that fades into a gurgle of sickness, a black spray of sludge erupting from my lips and nostrils.

I’m still hacking and slobbering, turning about to face her again, when the bitch rises, her draconic features leering.

Bastard! she screeches.

I spit black tar and saliva at her in response as she lifts her fore into the air, her talons lashing uselessly, leaving red streaks momentarily lingering in the atmosphere in my disease riddled vision. I feel my muscles tighten in anticipation for fire, beginning a sweeping forward step with my chin tucked low and my horn angled for another strike at her raised figure, eagerly accepting the touch of her flame if it means I can make the damned dragon bleed again.

I don’t reach her before she lands her fore hard on the earth, a sudden and tumultuous shifting of everything beneath me stilling my forward motion, turning the momentum of my assault into a fight for my upright position.

"Treacherous bitch!" I manage, just before her dragon bulk slams into my left shoulder, a curious thought as to why this dragon is so very small flitting through my thoughts, not unlike the spots of white light that dapple the ebonite world at the ferocity of our bodies meeting.

I don’t go down, not like she wanted, anyway, but I am dazed enough that I am forced to pivot clockwise under the weight of the impact, feeling a deep bruise aching within; an odd tingling in my right hind ankle suggests I should pay more mind to the roots below. Her teeth clamp down hard where my neck meets my wither, the skin rupturing, oozing red blood down the curvature of my shoulder, earning a grunt of discomfort from black goo lined lips.

Wheezing, I follow the momentum of my body, letting my fore travel about to the right, lashing out as swiftly as I can with my hind hooves (feeling my shoulder scream, nearly buckling), hoping to clip legs, chest, face – anything, a voluminous hack resounding through the clearing at the second extension of my hind legs.

Maybe I’ll get to keep a few teeth as souvenirs.




[ 2/3 :: 525 words
Timeline: 1 week
Summary: Moves to attack Ki’irha as she rears, but the Ground Stomp forces him to deal with remaining upright. Her charge impacts him in the left shoulder, leaving a deep bruise, and she gets a bite in on his upper shoulder near the crest of his wither, which is now bleeding and obviously hurts xD (but is causing no severe issues otherwise). Almost manages to sprain one of his ankles during all this (not quite, its more susceptible to spraining now, however). Rikyn allows her impact with his left side to play into his counterattack, following his momentum right, and delivers two hard bucks aimed in the general behind him vicinity. ]

@Random Event @Ki'irha

in every heart a hole