Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah,
Tol fod zeymah win kein meyz fundein!
It wasn't really a surprise when she felt herself being jostled on both sides, bodies bumping into her hard enough that she is certain bruises will blossom across her hide. They slowed her down, sent her off of her course which ultimately causes her to stop. She needed to readjust herself, and fast. The dark and brightly striped mare gave a quick sweep of the battlefield with her sickly green eyes. What in the fuck is she even doing here? This isn't her battle. She has no herd affiliation. Her loyalty is, as it always would be, to herself alone. It didn't make any sense that she felt compelled to attack the tiger with the rest of them. But she couldn't ignore the desire, couldn't ignore the incessant pull to feel her red-tipped antlers tear into the beasts flesh.
From somewhere, water spilled onto the tiger, granting her just enough time to find the beast again and zero in on her. With a renewed sense of vigor, the dragonborn surges forward; long dual-toned locks flowing behind her like a banner of death. Well-toned, firm muscles ripple beneath her striped hide and as she draws near she lowers her head once more to aim her antlers at the tiger's side. She longs to hear the sounds of her rack pummeling and tearing at the flesh, longs to hear the cries of pain from the beasts lips. In the precious seconds before potential impact, she finds herself praying to Akatosh for accuracy. She can't fail this time. She won't.
DOVAHKIIN |
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image credit
Team Earth God
Gets bumped into and thrown off her course, causing her to pause. Isopia's water helps her to pinpoint the tiger and once again she charges at the tiger's side, hoping to hit it with her antlers.
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SWP :: Blunt Little Instruments (Part II)
