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02-23-2017, 10:00 AM
Her giggles gain in frequency and pace the swifter her prey flees, her pale banners slapping along behind her, limbs carrying her just behind the golden mouse. The offering of flesh is fast, Beloved notices, her lungs drawing deep on the green air, ears flattened to silence the rush of the wind over her piercing crown, and inside, the impact of her toed hooves against the earth thrums through her like the deep roar of time. So the blessed hunter gives chase, her eyes wild, her mouth gnawing at the air as her nostrils gluttonously suck down air to fuel to wild charge. Slipping about some corners, she leaps forth with snarls, and rancorous laughter, until the prey finds itself trapped. Spilling about into the open path like a wraith, the porcelain doll clucks and croons her joy, as her wild gallop becomes a frightful charge, imbued with a mad smirk, and the peels of high pitched, shrieking delight. Up, lifts the sunlight tinted bird, her wings a broad wall of gold that almost makes the wicked one balk. Her leap is not stayed, however, the tip of her ivory horn a hungry blade that whistles and it seeks to feed again on the blood of the one who got away. Thud, thud, thump, sound the mouse’s hooves on Beloved’s flesh, rendering bruises, pulling away dozens of milky strands from her pale mane, bludgeoning her neck, shoulders, even clipping clavicle, with a loud, boney clatter. A girlish squeal ruptures the otherwise abhorrent glee sounding throughout the air, her weapons retracted as she pulls backwards and away from the sharp motion, her neck snaking back, her lips curled into a snarl; roaring, like the beast she is, the woman snaps viciously out at the gold one, the sharp pain in her chest enraging the more it pangs, and leaves her impotently floundering. What she shouts is indecipherable, but certainly heinous, as she barges through the barricade of bruised-bone pain and lunges again, bounding and bouncing forward, up, back, forward, as if she, a lone wolf, were the whole pack, nipping at the haunches of a bull elk until the sheer number of their strikes wore the behemoth into nothingness. |
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Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D
