Post by Zohyd// on May 14, 2018 11:35:31 GMT -7
inhale that drug
{why oh why can't you just fix me? when all I want's to feel numb}
Hot, sticky air hung heavy in the early morning heat. While Spring was just making its presence on Wild Equines, Nomalanga seemed to have its own weather pattern and eco system. The jungle was often humid and made breathing difficult. A layer of mist currently blanketed the moist lithosphere. The treed canopy above allowing rays of sunshine to peek through the dense foliage. The jungle was an odd place with the variety of plants that resided here. Different shapes, sizes and even colors. Rousselet had travelled throughout many lands, but it was almost always the same scenery; same types of just trees just a different location. Nomalanga was far different than anything she had seen in her travels. The last time she had entered the ridiculously humid lands it had been almost disastrous. The soft ground gave way, creating a landslide that had taken her with it. Rousselet’s eighteen point three hand bodice had been carried down the hillside to the bottom, and while nothing had been broken, she did find herself in a very peculiar situation. While on the slide down her bodice had been encompassed in vines, leaving her restricted and defenseless. She simply waited. A sitting duck where some might be petrified of what might become, but that emotion did not exist within her. It had not taken long for another equine to find her. Pagan. It was her first encounter with the beast and he immediately intrigued her. The twenty point one hand brute had released her from the cat’s cradle and let her be on her way. Not much was spoken between the two and nothing was asked in return of the favor. Crisis had been avoided and Rousselet would be certain she would not find herself in another situation like that.
Long, slender limbs carried the ebon and ivory wench with ease. Multi colored daggers landing lightly on the soft lithosphere before snapping back into the air. She moved at a two beat gait, maneuvering her eighteen point three hand bodice with incredible grace through the wild game trail. Matted locks clung to her muscular boa, the heat index causing them to stick with force; acting as if threatening to choke the body of the one they resided on. Uniquely painted bodice held a slightly sheen against her pelt, the sweat was impossible to avoid when entering the humid terrain. Rousselet thrived in cooler temperatures. The snow and bone-chilling wind was what excited the witch in whom would tell you her heart was just as cold as the temperatures she preferred. Violet orbs with teal flecks carefully picked out her path, not wanting to take a route that would potentially lead her to sliding down a cliff side again. She had come away barely scathed with her battle in the Neutral versus Helkaer war. It took a few weeks for little aches and pains to go away- but it was nothing extreme. Nothing that needed attendance to with its recovery. Now, one would not be able to tell she had gone to battle. Her structure was back to its impeccable form. Rousselet was a Goddess of War. Her build was tall but resembled that more of a warmblood. The Arabian the coursed through her veins gave her stamina, the ability to be surprisingly light on her feet and a pretty face, which she more or less did not care for. She kept herself in excellent shape, refusing to ever be put in a situation where she was not prepared for. Violence and bloodshed was a lifestyle she much preferred and felt comfortable in. She didn’t need the limelight and wasn’t what one might consider power hungry. She didn’t feel the need to show off her kills, and didn’t seek out the comfort of others for a ‘job well done’. Rousselet was confident in herself and her abilities; the opinions of others meant nothing to her.
Bodice broke through the foliage and into one of the small valley-like openings that Nomalanga had to offer. Her gait slowed to a free flowing walk as her gaze took in what the area had to offer. It appeared to be empty, good. As Rousselet silently picked her way through the valley in hopes of making it to a shaded section, she was caught off guard. Help Bird catcher marked frame came to a halt, feminine dial rose as twin audits pricked forward. Invisible brows furrowed as she was trying to decide where the noise was coming from or if it simply was a figment of her imagination. She was met with nothing but silence. Limbs carried her forward once more, audits now swiveling upon her dial as radars looking to pick up any noise. Please, help me! This time the voice was louder, more desperate. It sounded as if it belonged to that of an adolescent- a child. Immediately Rousselet felt annoyed. No other equines were in the area and she was yet to even find the source of the noise. Whip slashed against her haunches as she gazed once more towards the destination she so badly wished to arrive at. The shade looked promising, but it would not be peaceful if some fucking foal was calling out pathetically.
Nares flared as she took in a deep breath of oxygen, lungs filling to their full capacity before exhaling the used carbon dioxide. Muscular shoulders rolled slightly as she tried to relieve her irate mood slightly. Jaw locked as her blood stained ivories clenched together. Bodice shifted as Rousselet change her path towards the direction of the plea for help. After a moment of walking she noticed a change in the emerald blades that scattered the lithosphere. A small circular form laid ahead of her. Don’t let it eat me, please! The young voice was closer, clearly coming from the circular location she was heading to. Was this child having a bad dream? Where the fuck was its dam? Once Rousselet approached the foal, she could see its small bodice lying on the soft floor; the emerald blades surrounding it were taller- putting it in a nice cubby hole. The colt was young, surely not more than four months old. Its fuzzy pelt was a rich copper color, so fresh and clean- not yet scarred by the harsh and cruel world. A white diamond and snip was on his young face, as well as a front sock. He was average at best for coloring. Rousselet’s markings were much more interesting. The ebon that was the base of her pelt always remained as black as a moonless night. Ivory bird catcher spots haphazardly speckled her pelt. Ivory lacing that almost resembled a broke spider web ran from her withers to the dock of her tail- all along her spinal cord. Two hind stockings and light flecks from her rabicano coloring was about the only thing normal on her. Ebon locks with ivory frosting, giving an almost silver appeal, cascaded from her bodice. The shape of her cranium was almost delicate and feminine, a fair mix of her Arabian showing. It was the badger like marking that made it different and unique. Teal and violet handprints in a circle were placed upon her haunch as well- a meaning long lost to any on Wild Equines. Rousselet was massive in size and different in her markings; this colt was never going to be anything special.
I hurt my leg. Don’t let the kitty get me. The young colt whimpered up towards Rousselet. Kitty? Visage now turned towards the tree line as she searched for what the colt might be talking about. Nares flared and the scent of sweet metallic blood hit her mind like a drug addict taking a hit. Vision snapped towards the colt only to now see the sweet and sticky ruby liquid on its hind leg. The laceration looked deep, flesh ripped open with tendons exposed. Some might find the sight horrific, but Rousselet felt nothing. She looked closer, the tendons appeared to be damaged- hindering this colt and his movement. Do something! Help me The colt demanded her desperately. Shut the fuck up. Rousselet whipped her dial towards the direction of the colt; making direct contact with its own, small dial. The colt screamed in pain. Did the fucker not think that perhaps it needed to be more worried about her over some pathetic cat? Of course not, it knew nothing about this world yet. I’m sorry. I don’t know where my mommy is. I lost her. The voice of the copper colored colt had lowered an octave or two as it clearly didn’t want to piss her off again. Or perhaps she lost you, on purpose. Rousselet commented, knowing very well the colt wouldn’t understand what she meant. Sure enough, he just stared at her, confused by her words and the meaning behind them. It was rustling of the bushes that drew her attention towards the tree line, the only emotion currently going through her was that of an annoyed one by the entire situation. The copper colt let out another shriek from the movement along the tree line. Rousselet’s audits immediately pinned to her skull, tucked away tightly in her frosted locks. What appeared was not what she was expecting though. Pagan.
Singular, invisible eyebrow curled over an optic as the chimeric striped brute came into view. Greedily her gaze swept over his massive build before she quickly tore it away. Rousselet did not admire anyone, especially stupid fucking men. Can’t go find another party to ruin? Lyrics were directed towards Pagan, a slight edge in them- partly now from the colt and the sudden appearance of a brute she seemed to be having many encounters with. She watched as the brute smirked before shooting back If this is what you call a party I’d say you’ve been robbed of fun. She watched as his gaze then moved towards the colt on the ground. Certainly he didn’t think it was her, right? on the other hand, maybe I was wrong. Curiosity began to form within the ebon and ivory wench. How far could she push this bastard until he left the situation? Gaze dropped to the colt, oh yes, the kitty was not going to be what killed the colt today. Leg is shredded, tendons and all. He’ll never completely heal and he’ll never be more than average. He’s weak and will breed to create more weakness- that is if the prissy boy doesn’t grow up to be gay. You’ve showed up just in time for his death. A small smile curved upon her feminine façade. That sadistic grin was at home against her features. He didn’t seem at all bothered by her words, in fact he appeared as if he didn’t believe her. What are you waiting for then? Was he truly doubting that she would do it? Rousselet had a foal, once, long ago. The sire of the colt killed it before it got the chance to stand; Rousselet did nothing. Felt nothing.
The sudden realization of conversation between Rousselet and Pagan had the colt now screaming for help. Her head throbbed from the obnoxious noise. Audits pinned to her pelt as she fought to block out the noise, but had no such luck. Finally, in a swift and fluid motion she snapped her head down, blood stained ivories parted. Her timing and aim was perfect, teeth grasping the soft pink tongue of the colt and ripping it upwards and forwards. The colt’s bodice jerked with the momentum and then fell to the earth; Rousselet dropped half of his tongue before him. The pink rubber looking oddly out of place in the scene. Blood began to overflow out of the colt’s mouth and the desired effect only lasted a few seconds. The screaming began again, gurgling noises from the blood now added a different noise to the mix. Violet orbs with teal flecks glanced towards Pagan- clearly unimpressed by the colt. He’s still alive. The words were barely audible as they were spoken by the brute. Of course he’s still alive, a quick death would be too easy. No enjoyment for me if they don’t suffer at least a little. Her attention then turned back towards the colt. He was trying to stand, but he was now too weak. His frail, helpless body tried continuously. He probably wished now that it was only the mountain lion that he had to defend himself against. As the colt attempted to stand again, Rousselet allowed one of her forelimbs to reach out and hook his tiny, frail limb. She snatched hers up quick- his whole, copper body twisting in the air and landing on his back before rolling to the side. Again he cried out and suddenly she had enough. Ivories clamped tight upon his crest; crunching noises now echoed through her mind- no longer focused on the screaming. The muscles in her nape were put into motion and with one quick jerking motion a loud snap and then silence. Oh what blissful silence it was. The head now hung awkwardly from its body. Easily Rousselet flung the bodice aside, about ten meters down along the tree lines. Immediately a feline pounced on the dead carcass, it was underweight and clearly did not care that it was just handed an already dead catch.
Gaze drifted back towards Pagan, he was unimpressed. Rousselet didn’t care, she wasn’t there to impress some brute whom had intruded upon her private time. He’s dead now. she stated dryly as her eighteen point three hand bodice turned and began walking away. She didn’t look back and didn’t offer the brute to join her. But a small smile pulled at her kissers as she left. She was pleased he was not the slightest bit concerned for the foal’s life and that the basic death was not impressive. It did not showcase her talent in the slightest- but it did tell her a bit about him. And she was silently pleased.
words; 2337
Bonus Tiers:
7,000 points - Verbose Loquacity: Use higher grade level vocabulary terms properly throughout your post. (Example: Using "In her solitude" instead of "she was all alone". Words like voluptuous, incredulous, desolate, ect.)
15,000 points - Overachiever: Complete all four scenarios!
15,000 points - You Talk too Much: Hit the 2,000 word count milestone.
20,000 points - Multiple Characters: More than one is featured throughout the entry. Cannot be minor dialogue/appearance, they must have a purpose and be as predominant as the other character(s). (* Scenarios may state using one character, but you may use multiples.)
extra thoughts; permission from Azzy to use Pagan.
