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[O] HERE, CATCH ME} - Printable Version

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HERE, CATCH ME} - Bathsheba - 07-28-2016

Eat me up,
I'm dead inside.
She was a ghost, dark flesh merging easily into the silky shadows of the rock face. Pale eyes watched, wide-eyed and round, carved from the whitest alabaster and sewn into an even lovelier head. Chills rippled across bare skin as a brief wind chased the warmth away, but only for a moment before the sunshine swept back in. Sweat curled and dried within every fold and crack, her body heaved for every breath while the gull she spied upon seemed to have a much easier time of things. Tallsun was unbearable, every morning she woke with a desperate plea upon soft lips, lungs beseeching an always hot sun. Even her mother, more-so burdened than she, was having a difficult time and this only served as a catalyst for Bathsheba's prayers. On a stroke of pure luck the struggling child had come upon a small alcove, off to the far Western side of the Isles. A diamond among the rubble! Although no more suffered beneath the blaze than the rest of the world, it managed to provide small promises of shade where she now took respite.

The gull had come hither no more than an hour or two into her wait, the long wait that always followed one of her Mothers mysterious meetings. It swooped down from the heavens with an unattractive squawking, sending leathery ears back into the stiff, growing hairs of a weanling mane. Bathsheba made small, weak attempts at cordial conversation, body dripping salt and vinegar as the sun made to move into her initial hiding place. Being forced to move she forwent formalities and trudged cheerlessly to a wading pool graced by the shadow of a natural arch, reaching far above her head to provide ample defense from the piercing light. Unfortunately her guest caught on to her ploy and the raucous creature took chase, following her ever so awkwardly on too-long legs, wings spread wide to prevent capsizing. "Oh! Go away you!" She had cried, even going so far as to strike out with a crippled hind-leg. Alas the beast was insistent and she was wan to waste anymore energy upon it, acquiescing to the reek of his company as the bird slowly filed into the shade. Perhaps it was by a touch of luck that it had taken up slumber, or maybe it was a curse, for now she found herself dolefully eyeballing the creature in boredom. At least in wakefulness he had been a point of interest, albeit irritable interest. Now the filly could only gaze on, mind wheeling tiredly with recycled thoughts, songs already sung and memorized, encounters picked apart by the swell of her anxiety... Bathsheba was hopelessly alone yet again, nothing new to entertain the growing space of her mind.

@Oizys if you have the time, otherwise open to anyone. *wink*

RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Oizys - 07-29-2016


That's the sound a sleeping gull makes when it's landed on by a giant Philippine eagle, and has its neck snapped by its assailant's savage beak. Blood and feathers splurt as Ker's talons cut into gull-flesh, killing it instantly - a rather nice way to go, Oizys thinks, so quickly you don't even notice. Ker joyously sets about ripping the feathers from the corpse so she can access the juicy meat beneath, and the sound of tearing skin echoes through the area.

Oizys is so busy chuckling at her companion's swift slaughter that she hardly notices the other filly lurking nearby. When she does eventually notice, her gaze narrows and she slows to an abrupt halt. "Oh, it wasn't your buddy, was it? Sorry!" But she doesn't sound sorry in the slightest, and her eyes gleam with malice. Ker is a predator - it's about the only thing she's useful for, and a sleeping gull was just too good an opportunity to pass up. She scrutinises the other filly closely - younger than the gargoyle by a small fraction, vaguely familiar-looking....Oizys squints and tilts her head, but cannot fathom the resemblance. "Who're you?" she asks, her tail coiling around her hocks with interest.

Crrrrrrrack! That's the sound of Ker happily removing the gull's head with her beak, nibbling off what little meat she can salvage before throwing the skull lazily aside. She nestles down further upon her prey, and continues to savagely devour it without a care for the conversation of her bonded.

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RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Bathsheba - 07-29-2016

Eat me up,
I'm dead inside.
Blood, bright red splattering with finality into the salty brine, kissing dark ankles as pale eyes watched in mutilated wonder. Somewhere in the depths of her chest something split open, a blossom of sorts, painted in shadow and fed by the twinges of fear that rippled against a rigid spine. Everything happened so fast there was nothing to be done, the eagle had found its mark and his supine companion was soon to follow. The filly was dark in every form, eyes flashing while sharp words penetrated the careful silence. Oh! It wasn't your buddy was it? Sorry!, not an ounce of honesty bled from those crooked lips, wiry mane brushing stiffly in the light breeze. She could not have been any younger, maybe a few weeks older, than Bathsheba. The telltale signs of youth pervaded the unusually gruff attitude in long legs and shuddering ribs. Hooves swept uneasily in the wet dirt and the long line of her tail curled indecisively between and around back legs, a comforting gesture perhaps?

"Nobody you need to know." There was surprise at the blunt fierceness that dripped away from a coiling tongue, young muscles sliding in tight rolls as she shifted a few feet between them. Where this creature was all hard soil and dirty mouth, she was fine lines and taught planes, derived of elegance and painted in power. The artistic venture of a growing body was drawing her into different, awkward shapes, legs a little too long for the bulk of her body while the smattering of patchwork hairs across her sides fell short in velvet fields. The dark outline was a shocking contrast to vivid white eyes that now suffered upon the dark girl with hardly-veiled scrutiny. Where a sniveling girl had once waited in boredom, a dissatisfied child now looked on with political distaste. Faced with arrogant fumes as the bird continued its feast upon the seagull, the same seagull she had attempted earlier to so desperately escape. The same seagull that her heart now reached out for as its skull bobbed against the riding currents. "And what if he was? What would you do?" She suddenly asked, curiosity probing in short eddies against the vicious wall of her defense. "Would you stand there and watch me fade, watch my spirit splinter in your irresponsibility-" She held her breath "would you watch me die?" Something way deep down inside was beginning to boil, something she was only vaguely familiar with, something... her mother worked hard to keep at bay with re-direction and soft words. "Of course you would, you think you're something special don't you." Her gaze jerked down to the gorging eagle and in that short moment she recognized the ugly face of her own jealousy, her own disgust, and it was too late to take it all back.

@Oizys so please don't kill me?

RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Oizys - 08-05-2016



Nobody you need to know. Oooh, burn! The gargoyle's eyes alight with glee at the other filly's sharp words. Oh, she loves a good argument. As her actions in the Edge meeting prove, Oizys gets off on pissing people off. She thrives on infuriating her fellows, and if she can goad them into attacking her, even better. She's too young to be able to fight with any real conviction, but perhaps against somebody of a similar age...

She finds herself drinking in the other girl's body, just in case they should come to blows. They're of a similar size, and both unfortunately condemned to the awkward, long-legged clumsiness that is almost always present in children of their age. They both show clear signs of future bulk, although Oizys is happy to hazard a guess that she'll have a slight height advantage over this marginally younger filly. And, of course, she has her secret weapon; Ker, still feasting away on the seagull. The eagle might be a bit of a wimp, but she's delightfully useful when it comes to inflicting pain. That beak, those claws...the gargoyle's withers and flanks are littered with scars caused by the eagle's landings upon her, so she really would not like to be on the receiving end of a deliberate attack.

Overall, the bitch is quietly confident that, should push come to shove, she could hand out a reasonable ass-kicking. Father would be so proud, to see her dealing out the pain to an inferior.

The other child continues, and Oizys flattens her ears; she also gives a contemptous roll of her cold eyes. "Calm your tits, it's only a fucking seagull," she growls with a perishing glare at the other filly. She's still not done, adding that Oizys thinks she's something special. The gargoyle's superior expression only heightens; she shifts, just to ensure that the livid harpy-scars on her face are clearly visible. "I don't think, I know." An imperious glare is given to the other; Ker pauses her feast for a moment to oggle her bonded's fierce expression, before diving back into the bloodied seagull-mess.

Oizys takes an intimidating step closer, drawing herself up to her full size. "And what do you think you are? Did your Ma not teach you any manners?" Her long, serpentine tail thrashes behind her, dusting the ground with the tuft on the end.

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RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Bathsheba - 08-06-2016

Eat me up,
I'm dead inside.
Anger and sadness follow hot on the heels of her outburst, but it would not stop there. No, it was a dam, broken and jagged her rib-cage had split asunder and everything she hid from the world was pouring out. Dripping, slowly, with agonizing ferocity so as to frighten the logical part of her mind. This girl, just barely larger than her was a nuisance, a pest that droned against the fur of her ears. They drew back against the dark leather of sweat-laced skin, black mane snapped as she threw up her head and widened her stance. She could not simply blow out her sides in reality, but the space in her mind exploded with confidence. "I am more than you will ever know, or that you will ever be and THAT, I do not think, I know." Lie. Twinges of pain scurry down a stiff spine and she knows that when this ends she will regret, but she is not finished. She inhales sharply "my manners? Says the cur that lets her bonded feast without mind nor matter, taking no account for her actions and having the gumption to speak larger than she is!"

Sialia would be appalled, she would be duly punished and for good reason. This is not the behavior graced upon her since the day of her birth, this was not the attitude the great Corporal ingrained into her youngest child. This was the raw face of pain and dismal loneliness, manifesting through anger and bitterness that this... this girl! Had so easily stolen out of her. It was impossible to withhold, there was no sense arguing. There was no chance to go back, she was furious, she was livid and fighting a losing battle. She would insult this filly and get hurt, she did not stand a chance and she knew it, yet still she goaded, still she spit fire and brimstone. Bathsheba lifted a single hind-leg, long, unusually long, pain ripped through her sides - she released it in a vicious strike against the water, sending a sharp, popping spray against both foals and the rocks.


RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Oizys - 08-07-2016


She laughs a cold, hard laugh. "You sweet, deluded little thing. You are less than a mound of shit beneath my hooves." Ker's interested now; she lifts her head, blood dripping ominously from her beak. She sends hopeful images of herself pecking out the younger filly's eyes, just as she had done that time when Oizys exchanged insults with Kid. Of course, that worked out well in the end - she'd grown rather fond of the skull-faced little shit, but she cannot see that happening here.

She's older now, stronger now. Her drive for vengeance, not to mention her desire to inflict misery upon those who piss her off, makes her a dangerous proposition.

She's even getting better at biting down the Cough, the Thing, the weakness in her heart. It affects her less now she's older and harder, and she half-hopes it will soon disappear entirely. Errant twists of her neck no longer send her into paroxysms of coughing; she's no longer condemned to trembling uselessness by the most minute of activities.

The other girl lifts a hindleg (the gargoygle's attention lingers on it; it's twisted, and Oizys realises with a thrill of delight that this filly is a cripple, too) and slams it down into the water, sending a liberal wave of salty foam across both children. The damp spray against her flesh is a welcome relief from the heaving, sweaty heat that bubbles across it, and she absorbs it gleefully. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take it upon myself to teach you some manners, as your mother is clearly not up to the job." Oh, Father will be so happy when she slays this girl and takes her pelt to him as a prize! Or maybe she won't kill her....maybe she'll just let her beg for mercy, mercy the bitch may or may not grant her...

She steps backwards, out of the water (electricity and water don't mix - she'd hate to accidentally shock herself) and draws upon her magic. With a savage roar, three dragons made of electricity erupt into life beside her, sizzling and crackling ominously as they leap into the air and fly towards the other filly. They circle her, and then - like fighter planes in formation - attempt to dive towards her, to try and slam into three different parts of her body simultaneously. They aim for her neck, right ribcage, and right flank; they hope to shock the unfortunate child and send her into shivering agony with the nasty electric magic that ripples through them.

Oizys watches her creations with cold, cruel eyes, her twisted and ruined face afire with a frigid grin.

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RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Bathsheba - 08-07-2016

Eat me up,
I'm dead inside.
Everything happened so quickly, time seemed to cease and the breath in her lungs became liquid fire as something, something hot and burning impacted her side. Bathsheba could not hold back a screech of terror, white eyes rolling in their sockets, seeking, searching for the source. Monsters, three of them, not terribly huge yet each of them crackled and spit with what could only be described as electricity, static fire arching and snapping the very air. Magic, this girl- this monster- had magic! Magic that made sound warp and water ripple with energy as they circled, circled, circled and lunged. They moved, so quickly, so swift, they berated her from all directions it seemed and all the filly could do was hunker down closer to the water. The other filly had backtracked onto a small outcropping of rock, Bathsheba eyeballed her fiercely (and terrified) from beneath a front leg. The potent aroma of tang and salt came wafting into wide, trembling nostrils, flesh shivered under every assault, bones creaked as she struggled desperately to stay upright.

They were nifty little things no doubt, they caused all kinds of havoc and the filly knew she was bleeding, probably scarred. But the longer she glared at the offending foal the more the levels of her training slid into place, the more her mind cleared as the stench of burning hair seemed to stick to the fore-front of those swollen thoughts. Her hair. Realistically there was nothing she could do to return fire, no mystical power hummed through her veins, no companion to drop down and save the day. Bathsheba was painfully alone and- she stopped, something sizzled up the front of a leg and she jerked down. (You're trapped). The creatures seemed to be re-charging, cycling around systematically and that is all the time she needed. Sialia did not focus on physical training, other than that of gaining strength in her legs, therefore battle and strategy were something her brain could not properly formulate. But they were definitely something she could wager on luck. Every part of her body resonated with the pulse of static, left clinging to the velvety skin of her hide and it hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. I hurt to even think.

Bathsheba lunged, eyes scanning the surroundings in rapid hope. Her too-long legs screeched in complaint and she pushed forward, right up close, close enough to whip that arrogant wench with the brunt of her tail. Instead she dipped down, swinging her hindquarters in close to the ground, long, black hair sweeping through the water in one single powerful thrust. The creatures swooped in for their next attack, perhaps in defense of their mistress. Bathsheba hoped with all her heart that as the water slung forward and up that one of them would hit the wave, one of them would crash into that water and electrocute the fuck out of its own master. Her own head was muddled and her ideas were a crazed mess, she would have to be one damned good strategist to get out of this without fault.

@Oizys I LOVE HER, but. I keep reading this over and over again and... please tell me if I should change the monsters' attack? It's been a stupid long time since I did any kind of battle/fighting play and I'm trying desperately to come up with something reasonable that Sheba could do in retaliation to a magic user (when she has none). So I kind of hope that an assault is what you had in mind? But please let me know if it's too powerplay-ee, because I feel like it might be and I'm just trying really hard. Poor Sheba is almost as confused as me ;-;

RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Oizys - 08-11-2016


Her spark-creatures find their mark, and fizzle out into nothingness once they've touched flesh; a joyous laugh of pleasure erupts from the filly's lips. Oh, how her erstwhile foe trembles! Ker's avian laugh mimics her bonded's harsh guffaw, made all the more sinister for the droplets of blood that still dangle freely from the eagle's vicious beak.

She expects some sort of retaliation - indeed, she's bristling in anticipation of it. She expects a kick, a bite, or even some magic if the other filly possesses it. As the painted one turns around, Oizys' ears pin as she prepares for a double-barrelled kick to the chest, but instead.....the other filly sweeps her tail across the water, and showers the gargoyle with droplets. A horse's tail isn't powerful enough to generate a giant wave, although there's enough water to give Oizys a quite pleasant shower; the droplets are enjoyable against her steaming flesh. "Are you shitting me? What're you going to do in a real battle, splash your enemies to death?" She's so amused by this unconventional 'attack' that she almost lets the other filly off for her sins. Almost, but not quite.

With a sharp grunt of effort, she summons her magic again; this time she creates a single bird of electricity rather than three dragons, and it's much larger than her previous offering. It launches upwards and hovers above the younger foal, not close enough to touch her skin and do any damage, but hopefully close enough to be threatening and fear-inducing. ""Now," she drawls, ""I'm a forgiving sort of girl - I will accept an apology for your rudeness. If not...then zzzzzap!" The bird crackles ominously, to punctuate Oizys' ultimatum. Truthfully she doesn't want a full-blown fight - they're both too young for it to be particularly glamorous - so she is quite happy to cease her assault provided she thinks the other girl has learned her lesson.

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It's fine! Ozzy's magic creatures actually dissolve after one attack usually, but you weren't to know that so don't worry! @Bathsheba

RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Bathsheba - 08-13-2016

Eat me up,
I'm dead inside.
There is something intermittently degrading about being treated like nothing more than a nuisance. The opposing suspect merely flicks her own wiry tail and glowers with vague amusement, features pulled into something akin to incredulity. She's talking again, disparaging Sheba's hopes without hardly a shift of her head. The patchwork girl moves to rise, only to find that she could not. Even as the electrical bird-creature pulls itself into existence, she is helplessly stuck, hind-legs refusing to budge. Her entire back-end was sinking, in fact, with a rather wet finality into the squelching mud of the reef.

Humility is something she is very familiar with and while this strange foal might think the tuck of her nose was in public shame, it came from a much deeper despair than she could possibly imagine. There was a gargantuan level of courage involved taking those first steps of retaliation, Bathsheba was mortally wounded, crippled, and worse - without magic. Helplessness was a part of her daily routine and here she was, sharing jeers and watery blows with a child fully-capable of hurting her if it came to that. Perhaps the real fighting was left to adults, but that did not mean that they as children could not to do plenty of harm in their own infant spars. Heat skittered in hot rivulets against her skin as the water dripping down her spine began to steam, a hot sun bore down on the scene as ears flickered to the sides and then back again. More talking, this filly really had a mouth on her, Sialia would have long since put the child in her place and then some. But Sialia was not there, she was gone, off doing whatever it was that she did in her spare time.

Bathsheba would not reward this crass thing with a response, even as a scream built up against the back of her tongue, strangling her breath in its ferocity. The sizzling creature hovered and sparked, though was no longer a source of terror for Sheba, her duo-toned flesh had felt the burn of electricity and would carry a handsome bruise in its wake. Instead of a response she simply allowed herself to fall, dropping skinny legs beneath a heaving chest, inhaling thick humidity into shivering lungs. Her tail swung around to settle against the parts of her that yet stuck out of the water, being nearly submerged 'the water is getting deep....' In a moment of self-imposed peace her mind wandered wantonly to the memory of a mare, a creature who held secrets in the very depth of her dress. Syrena would have been quite the sight at this level, blue feet and a red body - Bathsheba choked out a small laugh for her own benefit, Mother knows she needed it.


RE: HERE, CATCH ME} - Oizys - 08-20-2016


It looks to her like her foe is submitting, and that fills the gargoyle with a sick sense of delight. Her opponent crumples like a bag of shit, and disgust rises like bile in the filly's throat. Why is this other girl not even fighting back? Has her mother - or, indeed, her father, worthless mite that he must be - never taught her about dignity? About never accepting defeat, even when it is inevitable? About going into the darkness kicking and screaming? Oizys' harpy-scarred face twists into a cold expression of utter contempt, and her tail swings idly behind her like the angry warning of a rattlesnake.

It strikes her that she could take this other girl down fully - that she could land a death-blow whilst her opponent huddles on her knees in the mire. She could present that pretty pelt to Father...the thought certainly crosses her mind, and her head twitches with the desire to ram her horns into the throat of her fallen foe, but she resists. She doesn't know why, but something tugs at what little conscience she possesses, and stays her hand from murder.

Instead, with a savage hiss, she forces her spark-bird to sizzle into nothingness. "Get up," she barks at the younger filly, her eyes clouded with disgust, as though she's speaking to a fragment of shit stuck to her hoof. Ker leaps up from her eager feast upon the seagull, having pecked the flesh clean down to the bone; she circles and lands upon Oizys' muscled haunches, her terrifyingly large, feathered frame lurking like a spectre of death against the grey flesh of her bonded. The gargoyle's ears remained rooted to her skull, her teeth bared in a hideous snarl. "I suppose that will suffice as an apology."

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