03-10-2009, 09:37 PM
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I’ll call in the rescuer after you post; if Hybrid could work his magic on her back now, that would be awesome~
500+
One mind, any weapon. Civilize the mind but make savage the body. I have a high art, I hurt with cruelty those who would damage me. The martial proverbs echoed in her mind, and her mind was emptied, filled only with the image and actions of the male before her and these words of wisdom. And the pain. The cold dying of her body as the water and wind froze her made brittle her skin, as if now her skin existed for the sharpening of his claws. The Ultimate Warrior leaves no openings - Except in his mind. But the cold had ruined it. The water had ruined it. She had brought ruin upon herself. And now this creature, this coyote from Inferni, took his pleasure, cut her down, and her body could not respond any longer. The adrenalin was beginning to fade, strangled by the gelid stiffness that spread through her body like a sickness. The black fae’s body continued to move, to respond, but it continued to slow with the tempo of her struggling soul and heart. The male, while smaller than most, was swift. His movements quick and frantic, frenzied, efficient. But not unconquerable. The warrior recognized this. But the warrior recognized too her failing strength.
It is better to die on your feet, than to live on your knees. The female snarled anew, snapping her teeth as she tried to pierce his soft throat. But her hungry jaws snapped shut on empty air. Already, she was turning, but he was quicker, fresher. Hotter. But the heat that she could feel would not penetrate the grip that Death had upon her. And still, the warrior did not relent. She could not relent. It was not part of her to give up, for she knew that the male would not stop. But his jaws and claws cut into her, and he tore her more often then she could tear into him. Frustration drove her. The challenge drove her. Life drove her. But to no end. Even as she struck him, he struck out, barely catching her on her brest, re-opening the wounds that the wolf Brennt, now forgotten in the struggle, had struck upon her. The warrior tried to follow, to attack once more, but he had moved away, out of her reach.
It is better to die on your feet, than to live on your knees. The black, woad marked fae snarled as she stood still. Her hind legs, her injured hip gave way, collapsing beneath her, but she did not allow her shoulder to lie in defeat. She panted as he watched her, and she quickly struggled to rise again. She succeeded, but too much life flowed from her body, and the hot blood thawed her in tiny rivulets. But it was not enough. The cold wind bit her open wounds, teasing them. And then, even as she had risen, even as he had begun to circle her, he leapt. The warrior tried to leap, but could not gather the strength. Her jaws tried to find him once more, but he ducked and dodged her attempt. And then he was upon her. But she no longer had the strength to push him away. It was too cold.... Too cold. Hypothermia ate at her heart, tore victory from her and gave her defeat. The coyote gave her defeat, forcing it upon her as a rapist would a woman. But still she could not relent. Her body attempted the last feeble struggles against his form, but the earth trapped her.
If we are not victorious let no man come back alive!
I’ll call in the rescuer after you post; if Hybrid could work his magic on her back now, that would be awesome~
500+
One mind, any weapon. Civilize the mind but make savage the body. I have a high art, I hurt with cruelty those who would damage me. The martial proverbs echoed in her mind, and her mind was emptied, filled only with the image and actions of the male before her and these words of wisdom. And the pain. The cold dying of her body as the water and wind froze her made brittle her skin, as if now her skin existed for the sharpening of his claws. The Ultimate Warrior leaves no openings - Except in his mind. But the cold had ruined it. The water had ruined it. She had brought ruin upon herself. And now this creature, this coyote from Inferni, took his pleasure, cut her down, and her body could not respond any longer. The adrenalin was beginning to fade, strangled by the gelid stiffness that spread through her body like a sickness. The black fae’s body continued to move, to respond, but it continued to slow with the tempo of her struggling soul and heart. The male, while smaller than most, was swift. His movements quick and frantic, frenzied, efficient. But not unconquerable. The warrior recognized this. But the warrior recognized too her failing strength.
It is better to die on your feet, than to live on your knees. The female snarled anew, snapping her teeth as she tried to pierce his soft throat. But her hungry jaws snapped shut on empty air. Already, she was turning, but he was quicker, fresher. Hotter. But the heat that she could feel would not penetrate the grip that Death had upon her. And still, the warrior did not relent. She could not relent. It was not part of her to give up, for she knew that the male would not stop. But his jaws and claws cut into her, and he tore her more often then she could tear into him. Frustration drove her. The challenge drove her. Life drove her. But to no end. Even as she struck him, he struck out, barely catching her on her brest, re-opening the wounds that the wolf Brennt, now forgotten in the struggle, had struck upon her. The warrior tried to follow, to attack once more, but he had moved away, out of her reach.
It is better to die on your feet, than to live on your knees. The black, woad marked fae snarled as she stood still. Her hind legs, her injured hip gave way, collapsing beneath her, but she did not allow her shoulder to lie in defeat. She panted as he watched her, and she quickly struggled to rise again. She succeeded, but too much life flowed from her body, and the hot blood thawed her in tiny rivulets. But it was not enough. The cold wind bit her open wounds, teasing them. And then, even as she had risen, even as he had begun to circle her, he leapt. The warrior tried to leap, but could not gather the strength. Her jaws tried to find him once more, but he ducked and dodged her attempt. And then he was upon her. But she no longer had the strength to push him away. It was too cold.... Too cold. Hypothermia ate at her heart, tore victory from her and gave her defeat. The coyote gave her defeat, forcing it upon her as a rapist would a woman. But still she could not relent. Her body attempted the last feeble struggles against his form, but the earth trapped her.
If we are not victorious let no man come back alive!