Author:
Sparkling Diamonds
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Date Posted: 16:35:41 08/29/02 Thu
In reply to:
Striker
's message, "Re: -Mercy is weakness-" on 12:21:07 08/29/02 Thu
*Frosted muliebral pauses as the male approaches, and tenses as his head is brought exactly level with hers. A soft snort of distrust is given. Striker, retreating? Never. And behold! Her suspicions are proven correct as the bronc reels away, and weight is thrown back to haunches. His legs lash through the air before the femme can think to recoil, and one of his thrashing forehooves cuff her heavily above the left eye. A shrill whinny of surprise and pain escapes her, eyes widening, the ring of white plainly visible. She backs away, shaking petite cranium to clear the warm, vermilion blood from her line of vision* Why do you trouble me? *She whispers, almost pleadingly, but her words still hold a trace of defiant flame. She won't let him win; she can't. As the stud's muscled frame sinks down from the heavens - what goes up must come down, you know - she takes a chance, muscles uncoiling as she springs at him. Blunt ivories attempt to get a grip on the stag's jugular, jaws slipping even though her effort is valiant. Equine teeth were not made for such, but she hangs on despite genetics, mind racing. She would surely be attacked in return, the tactics harming her threefold. What goes around, comes around - that is true, too. She digs her nails into the emerald terra firma, trying to hold both of their weights to the ground*
(OOC - I should be back at home tomorrow afternoon/evening but until then I'll continue making crap-tastic posts at the library.)
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