Never so aggravated. Never this close to wanting someone’s world to lie in ruin once he had finished with them. Raif was normally the quiet and reserved one by all appearances. His storm raged from within, his eyes the subdued instigator that never flinched when the other’s snapped. But this Dek Licker was drawing upon the last remaining thread of his patience, and she just refused to shut up!
The petch is she? A spider monkey?
Her python leg slithered gruffly around his waist, confusion momentarily registering upon features deeply immersed in enmity. Swinging her ungainly body around, his arms fled out to his sides as if to make another grab, but realization quickly dawned on him when he felt her ungainly frame latch onto his... hair!
Grunts of indignation tore from the Endal’s stretching throat, his elbow swinging wildly behind him as it scuffed the bony protrusion of her hip and recoiled. Did she just…?!
Through aching muscle and sweat her voice hissed like drops of acid upon the barrier of his resolve, freezing him in place long enough to give her teeth purchase of his flesh. Blood-smeared lips exposed a vicious blood-washed snarl. As if he’d just shoved a handful of berries into his mouth and crushed them with all the strength of his jaw.
Nothing could curtail the resulting roar, the final link to his sanity severed as the world became filtered by a crimson glaze. So very few of his kind cared for familial ties, but not Raif. Survival first: a motto they’d been charged to live by whether their defiant eyes agreed with it or not. An endless cycle of blind procreation, hunting, toiling, fighting.
One of the few Dek who remembered his parents. One of the few who still cared for them still. They rested along with a sister that the world had already forgotten. Such potential wasted. It made the writhing Endal sick to think about, but more importantly, deeply insulted to hear the woman’s words.
He fell to the earth, but it seemed to hardly concern him by the twitch of rage encircling his left eye, the sky an ocean of blood that cared so little for his struggle. And if the world refused him, then it was only natural that he refuse the world.
All the Endal wanted was to see the girl scream in terror, feel her suffer just as his sister’s eyes had quietly suffered. Right before her death. Mabiri hadn’t screamed. Why hadn’t she screamed?
A passing thought and no more.
Orange needles and clods of dirt spat up from the pitiless earth, a fraction of the wind knocked out of him, his legs spinning overhead as he allowed the momentum to carry the rest of his body until the world made sense again. It was an awkward recovery, stumbling as blood rushed and then drained from his head. His right hand brushed with something in his attempt to regain balance. A rock.
Back on his feet and sauntering to the left. The girl was again within his sights, retreating. One fist raised, the other clutching something unforgiving and slate gray. It fit into the palm of his hand, no heavier than two pounds. Jagged as it scraped the callused flesh of his hand. If this was how she wished to play, then the only recourse was to stoop lower.
”Shut your whore mouth! Like a child-” His arm swung back before launching forward again, releasing the rock in his hand as it sped sharply for her head with a hiss of wind chasing behind it. ”-who doesn’t have a petching clue what she’s doing here. How she found you worthy to ride-”
Raif bounded towards her, feet scraping against the earth when she came within distance, his right leg already sweeping out for her left knee from the side, toe pointing inward like a blunted knife point. No mercy. ”-shames all Inarta WHO CLAIM YOU AS KIN!”
Too many envisioned battle as an art form, filled with masterful brush strokes of the sword and valiant invocations that decimated one’s enemies. In truth, it was no more than chaos. Sweat sleeked, blood dripping, lung burning, chaos.
The petch is she? A spider monkey?
Her python leg slithered gruffly around his waist, confusion momentarily registering upon features deeply immersed in enmity. Swinging her ungainly body around, his arms fled out to his sides as if to make another grab, but realization quickly dawned on him when he felt her ungainly frame latch onto his... hair!
Grunts of indignation tore from the Endal’s stretching throat, his elbow swinging wildly behind him as it scuffed the bony protrusion of her hip and recoiled. Did she just…?!
Through aching muscle and sweat her voice hissed like drops of acid upon the barrier of his resolve, freezing him in place long enough to give her teeth purchase of his flesh. Blood-smeared lips exposed a vicious blood-washed snarl. As if he’d just shoved a handful of berries into his mouth and crushed them with all the strength of his jaw.
Nothing could curtail the resulting roar, the final link to his sanity severed as the world became filtered by a crimson glaze. So very few of his kind cared for familial ties, but not Raif. Survival first: a motto they’d been charged to live by whether their defiant eyes agreed with it or not. An endless cycle of blind procreation, hunting, toiling, fighting.
One of the few Dek who remembered his parents. One of the few who still cared for them still. They rested along with a sister that the world had already forgotten. Such potential wasted. It made the writhing Endal sick to think about, but more importantly, deeply insulted to hear the woman’s words.
He fell to the earth, but it seemed to hardly concern him by the twitch of rage encircling his left eye, the sky an ocean of blood that cared so little for his struggle. And if the world refused him, then it was only natural that he refuse the world.
All the Endal wanted was to see the girl scream in terror, feel her suffer just as his sister’s eyes had quietly suffered. Right before her death. Mabiri hadn’t screamed. Why hadn’t she screamed?
A passing thought and no more.
Orange needles and clods of dirt spat up from the pitiless earth, a fraction of the wind knocked out of him, his legs spinning overhead as he allowed the momentum to carry the rest of his body until the world made sense again. It was an awkward recovery, stumbling as blood rushed and then drained from his head. His right hand brushed with something in his attempt to regain balance. A rock.
Back on his feet and sauntering to the left. The girl was again within his sights, retreating. One fist raised, the other clutching something unforgiving and slate gray. It fit into the palm of his hand, no heavier than two pounds. Jagged as it scraped the callused flesh of his hand. If this was how she wished to play, then the only recourse was to stoop lower.
”Shut your whore mouth! Like a child-” His arm swung back before launching forward again, releasing the rock in his hand as it sped sharply for her head with a hiss of wind chasing behind it. ”-who doesn’t have a petching clue what she’s doing here. How she found you worthy to ride-”
Raif bounded towards her, feet scraping against the earth when she came within distance, his right leg already sweeping out for her left knee from the side, toe pointing inward like a blunted knife point. No mercy. ”-shames all Inarta WHO CLAIM YOU AS KIN!”
Too many envisioned battle as an art form, filled with masterful brush strokes of the sword and valiant invocations that decimated one’s enemies. In truth, it was no more than chaos. Sweat sleeked, blood dripping, lung burning, chaos.
