05-21-2018, 02:19 AM
<style>.traton {position:relative; z-index:1; width:500px; background:#000; border-radius: 75px 75px 50px 50px; border:2px solid #424027;} .traton p{margin:0px; padding:25px;} .cave_image{position:relative; z-index:2; margin-bottom:-10px; border-radius: 75px 75px 25px 25px;} .cave_text{position:relative; z-index:10; width:410px; padding:5px; background:#828282; border-radius: 15px 15px 0px 0px; text-align:justify; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 11pt; font-family: georgia; color:#fff;}</style>
<center><div class="traton"><img class="cave_image" src="https://s17.postimg.cc/86xscl0lb/cropcred500.png">
<div class="cave_text"><p>
The rending of flesh gave her pause. Transfixed, she was lost in time for a moment as he pulled his ankle away and she saw underlying layers of skin laid bare. The wound was fresh and raw for an eternal second before blood began to well in the void, first in rapidly blossoming speckles and then from the severed veins at the edges. She’d seen it all before, watched her own skin when it had been torn countless times before, but it never ceased to fascinate her.
Though much could be said for one who didn’t shy from the sight of blood, distraction in the heat of battle is rarely advisable.
She grunted as his hoof collided with her jaw, wincing as her teeth slammed against each other and made a horrific scraping sensation. The very tip of her tongue, previously languishing near her incisors, became caught in the crossfire, crushing and shearing the tip. Instinctively, she scrambled backwards, eyes watering. The coppery taste of blood disgusted her, and it began dripping from her lips as she tried to expel it from her mouth, frothing slightly as it combined with saliva and her hot breath. She was almost surprised when his teeth grazed her shoulder, scraping away the fur. The stinging sensation registered in her mind, though not nearly as demanding as the throbbing pains in her head. Neither were a match for the thrill of the fight, but that didn’t stop the pangs of <i>girl, you’ve done it now</i> from screaming through her head.
Her heart called out for her to stop, and to be released from the ribcage of such an irresponsible creature, but Traton <i>loved</i> it.
She had little time to remain fascinated with her new revelations and bask in the feeling of blood spreading outlines of her jawbones. He was already moving, already drifting into position for something stronger. She attempted to move out of range as his hindquarters began to lift, but it only placed her more in range. The air evacuating her lungs did so with an audible groan as his hooves collided with the flesh of her left flank. She hunched over, nostrils flaring, unable to quite draw breath. It wasn’t the first time the wind had been knocked out of her, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Seconds felt like hours as she gasped, turning to track his position with a wild, somewhat fearful eye. All the thrill of the fight discovered only moments before evaporated into cold sweat, bruised bones, and a primal struggle to survive.
Traton had never been one to take her fate lying down, regardless of the consequences. After all, that’s what had brought her so far from home in the first place. This is perhaps why, after a moment to regain some functionality of her diaphragm, she wheeled on the stallion with a feral look in her eyes, ignoring the screaming of her muscles as they cried out for oxygen. With him now facing her and slightly off to her right, she charged forward, quickly closing the short distance to his right side. She jerked her shoulders to the left just after they passed his own, stepping under herself with her hind legs before striking out with them at his right shoulder, aiming where the delicate joint of his wings lay. Rational thought had largely abandoned her, dissipated in a haze of ragged breath and terror.
There is always a choice, it transpires. Eat, or be eaten. And in a moment of panic, the spotted mare chose the former.
</div></div>
</center>
<center><div class="traton"><img class="cave_image" src="https://s17.postimg.cc/86xscl0lb/cropcred500.png">
<div class="cave_text"><p>
The rending of flesh gave her pause. Transfixed, she was lost in time for a moment as he pulled his ankle away and she saw underlying layers of skin laid bare. The wound was fresh and raw for an eternal second before blood began to well in the void, first in rapidly blossoming speckles and then from the severed veins at the edges. She’d seen it all before, watched her own skin when it had been torn countless times before, but it never ceased to fascinate her.
Though much could be said for one who didn’t shy from the sight of blood, distraction in the heat of battle is rarely advisable.
She grunted as his hoof collided with her jaw, wincing as her teeth slammed against each other and made a horrific scraping sensation. The very tip of her tongue, previously languishing near her incisors, became caught in the crossfire, crushing and shearing the tip. Instinctively, she scrambled backwards, eyes watering. The coppery taste of blood disgusted her, and it began dripping from her lips as she tried to expel it from her mouth, frothing slightly as it combined with saliva and her hot breath. She was almost surprised when his teeth grazed her shoulder, scraping away the fur. The stinging sensation registered in her mind, though not nearly as demanding as the throbbing pains in her head. Neither were a match for the thrill of the fight, but that didn’t stop the pangs of <i>girl, you’ve done it now</i> from screaming through her head.
Her heart called out for her to stop, and to be released from the ribcage of such an irresponsible creature, but Traton <i>loved</i> it.
She had little time to remain fascinated with her new revelations and bask in the feeling of blood spreading outlines of her jawbones. He was already moving, already drifting into position for something stronger. She attempted to move out of range as his hindquarters began to lift, but it only placed her more in range. The air evacuating her lungs did so with an audible groan as his hooves collided with the flesh of her left flank. She hunched over, nostrils flaring, unable to quite draw breath. It wasn’t the first time the wind had been knocked out of her, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Seconds felt like hours as she gasped, turning to track his position with a wild, somewhat fearful eye. All the thrill of the fight discovered only moments before evaporated into cold sweat, bruised bones, and a primal struggle to survive.
Traton had never been one to take her fate lying down, regardless of the consequences. After all, that’s what had brought her so far from home in the first place. This is perhaps why, after a moment to regain some functionality of her diaphragm, she wheeled on the stallion with a feral look in her eyes, ignoring the screaming of her muscles as they cried out for oxygen. With him now facing her and slightly off to her right, she charged forward, quickly closing the short distance to his right side. She jerked her shoulders to the left just after they passed his own, stepping under herself with her hind legs before striking out with them at his right shoulder, aiming where the delicate joint of his wings lay. Rational thought had largely abandoned her, dissipated in a haze of ragged breath and terror.
There is always a choice, it transpires. Eat, or be eaten. And in a moment of panic, the spotted mare chose the former.
</div></div>
</center>