10-28-2018, 04:14 PM
<center><div style="width: 550px; text-align: justify;">“These games are a flop.”
In her fear, and anger, Foalin has not realised that his blows and attacks become less forceful. Even when she is trying to talk him out of hurting her, her mind is completely, one hundred percent, in flight mode. But anger rises. Hadn’t she been playing along nicely? However, she does regret her taunting as soon as the sneering words leave her lips, and she can actually see the expression on his face change. Shit. Faolin realises that she has just dug her own grave.
Where before she had not noticed the less force in his attacks, she is now painfully aware of the returned strength behind each and every blow. It is harder to avoid his blows from landing, and more than once his Christmas lights whip lands on her hide with such strength that it splits her skin.
A particular hit on her left hip is particular bad. Faolin cries out, her hip feeling like it is on fire, and she instantly crippling with each step. The force Jack has used had made her jerk her leg back, partially blocking her knee from bending properly before it – equally as painful – slips back in its rightful place. It functions, but each step is like a shock of electricity through her entire body. This is it, she realises. Her eyes widen, and almost in slow motion the bay woman turns her face towards the flames. It is now or never. Her only hope.
Fear is so easily recognisable on her features, and her body is trembling uncontrollably. Her throat is dry, and tongue lies heavy in her mouth. Faolin is afraid. Perhaps terrified is a better word. For a moment, while still endlessly dodging, her eyes watch Jack, but then her gaze is set on the flames again. Do or die. Then back on Jack, as she says: “Catch me.. if you can..”
Faolin does not hesitate, but makes the fatal decisions to spin to the left, and thus putting her full weight on her crippled leg. As she cries out, tears wet her eyes, and she is a little too slow to get away. The whip lands on her back, sending her staggered forward, which she does. Into the flames.
Her plan is to run through, as quick and fast as possible. It would harm her, too, but hopefully set the pumpkin monster on fire too. But there is where Faolin makes a mistake. Jack follows her into the flames, and they lick his body hungrily, but never harm him. While her own legs burn and blister. She hears the whip coming before she feels it, and when it wraps around her neck, she’s forced to stop. Her throat strains, desperately trying to gasp for air, but it isn’t happening. For a moment she is not even aware of the damage the fire causes to her body, only that she isn’t getting any air, and that her throat is hurting like hell.
Desperately Faolin claws the ground, trying to get away, to free herself, but Jack hauls her in like little by little. By the time she has reached the end of the flames, and is out their reach, she is on the ground, her legs having given out underneath her. Her eyes are wide, and desperate, and lips are parted as she keeps trying to breathe in air. Begging, pleading, a pair of brown orbs desperately searches Jack’s.
Please, please, I don’t want to die.
Then, everything is dark. For a short moment she can feel the burning of her legs, and the heath that radiates of her burning tail as the fire is dying. The worst is her throat, and her lungs, that scream for oxygen. It takes only a split second before she’s gone. </div></center>
In her fear, and anger, Foalin has not realised that his blows and attacks become less forceful. Even when she is trying to talk him out of hurting her, her mind is completely, one hundred percent, in flight mode. But anger rises. Hadn’t she been playing along nicely? However, she does regret her taunting as soon as the sneering words leave her lips, and she can actually see the expression on his face change. Shit. Faolin realises that she has just dug her own grave.
Where before she had not noticed the less force in his attacks, she is now painfully aware of the returned strength behind each and every blow. It is harder to avoid his blows from landing, and more than once his Christmas lights whip lands on her hide with such strength that it splits her skin.
A particular hit on her left hip is particular bad. Faolin cries out, her hip feeling like it is on fire, and she instantly crippling with each step. The force Jack has used had made her jerk her leg back, partially blocking her knee from bending properly before it – equally as painful – slips back in its rightful place. It functions, but each step is like a shock of electricity through her entire body. This is it, she realises. Her eyes widen, and almost in slow motion the bay woman turns her face towards the flames. It is now or never. Her only hope.
Fear is so easily recognisable on her features, and her body is trembling uncontrollably. Her throat is dry, and tongue lies heavy in her mouth. Faolin is afraid. Perhaps terrified is a better word. For a moment, while still endlessly dodging, her eyes watch Jack, but then her gaze is set on the flames again. Do or die. Then back on Jack, as she says: “Catch me.. if you can..”
Faolin does not hesitate, but makes the fatal decisions to spin to the left, and thus putting her full weight on her crippled leg. As she cries out, tears wet her eyes, and she is a little too slow to get away. The whip lands on her back, sending her staggered forward, which she does. Into the flames.
Her plan is to run through, as quick and fast as possible. It would harm her, too, but hopefully set the pumpkin monster on fire too. But there is where Faolin makes a mistake. Jack follows her into the flames, and they lick his body hungrily, but never harm him. While her own legs burn and blister. She hears the whip coming before she feels it, and when it wraps around her neck, she’s forced to stop. Her throat strains, desperately trying to gasp for air, but it isn’t happening. For a moment she is not even aware of the damage the fire causes to her body, only that she isn’t getting any air, and that her throat is hurting like hell.
Desperately Faolin claws the ground, trying to get away, to free herself, but Jack hauls her in like little by little. By the time she has reached the end of the flames, and is out their reach, she is on the ground, her legs having given out underneath her. Her eyes are wide, and desperate, and lips are parted as she keeps trying to breathe in air. Begging, pleading, a pair of brown orbs desperately searches Jack’s.
Please, please, I don’t want to die.
Then, everything is dark. For a short moment she can feel the burning of her legs, and the heath that radiates of her burning tail as the fire is dying. The worst is her throat, and her lungs, that scream for oxygen. It takes only a split second before she’s gone. </div></center>