[mature] let me go crazy on you [whoever's in the mood for Jack]

[Jackel]

Splayed upon a pillow of golden tears it lays in a mass at my hooves; broken and mangled with a vacant expression.

It was only a few minutes before, I'd been watching and waiting just beyond the outskirts of the clearing.  The thought of the surprise is thrilling enough as I feel the thrum of adrenaline freely coursing through my body.  I've been watching the predators, you see.  Actually, I've been the victim of the wolves enough to know the way they coordinate and maneuver.  It's fascinating to behold.  So fascinating in fact, that I've decided to have a go at it.  As a prey animal myself, I knew I would have an advantage that they never could.  She would never see it coming.

I move out beyond the treeline, dropping my head as she raises hers, so that I may give the illusion I am merely enjoying the spring grasses, but the black voids of my eyes never leave her.  It is only when she feels comfortable enough again to continue her grazing that I begin my approach.  A step and a grab of blades, another step and another grab of blades--until I am a couple horse lengths from her.  The limb of a giant finally departs from its place to crash upon the fire forest's ground, and the sound startles the creature enough to where she looks away from me.  My muscles coil in eager anticipation and I cannot hold back any longer.

Hoping to startle her further, I give a shrill cry before pushing my mass towards her.  For a moment my ploy works before she regains her instincts and darts into the canopy; her fleeing only fuels my cravings.  Though she is quick, my lithe body puts to good use its nimble frame.  The chase is longer than I would have liked, but with every passing second I make progress.  At last she hesitates when she crosses paths with a boulder, unsure whether to jump or make a turn, she falters a moment too long.  I know she regrets her lack in decisional mindset as I soon as she feels the crack of her ribs as my body careens forcefully into hers, smashing her fragile body into the face of the boulder.  I do not go unscathed from the impact of course.  The wind is pushed forcefully from my lungs upon contact and my neck, chest, and shoulder come away with broken skin and seeping blood.  My vision clouds momentarily, but the adrenaline brings my focus back quickly and I am ecstatically pleased at the scene before me.

Confused and bleating, she tries to scramble away yet.  I admire her unwillingness to give in and evade death--he can be a scary thing if you do not know him.  But admiration quickly ebbs to a hunger for an end result.  And this noisy, bleeding mess of a creature is finally understanding what I intend that result to be.

She hasn't made it far, so by the time I take a couple steps she is flailing beneath me.  My fore hoof falls gently to one of her front limbs, then suddenly I shift all of my weight into a downward strike.  The satisfying snap brings a smile to my darkened lips and I continue on to her other front limb with and equally satisfying snap.  My smile grows larger then, as I watch the shallow breathing of her chest for a minute or two.  She's all but fallen completely silent, realizing finally that darkness is upon her.  Curiously my head tilts sideways assessing the situations I had brought upon her.  Initially I had thought to leave her a broken meal for the wolves to finish, but the urge to finish what I've started draws my head slowly downward.  Lips part to bare incisors as they encompass the tawny fur of her neck.  With painstaking precision, I clench my jaws together, blocking her trachea from less and less airflow with each fleeting breath she takes.  The dark abyss of my dilated eyes watch coldly, burning brighter every second that hers grow dimmer.  And just as quickly as it all started, she rattles one last breath before going still.

It is only when I am sure that she has departed, do I step away to admire my handiwork, licking my lips clear of her blood.

A smile and a laugh is all I can give to the doe's corpse now while the pooling blood turns cold in the dying light.

[Abra]

Abra

The forest is her home now.

Morty has certainly picked a suitable place for the nightmares of Beqanna to dwell. Muscular limbs pull her across Sylva’s vastness, as spring sunlight pours through the various breaks in trees. Her home stays dark more often than not, and the copper color of the leaves gives it a distinct, eerie glow. There is nothing quite like it.

And there’s nothing quite like the golden mare she stumbles upon. It isn’t often that Abra finds another as hellbent on torture and killing as she, but here they are. Morty has told her about the laughing lady - how she’s crazy, but in the best way.

Jackel, he’d said her name was. And she was standing over her kill, licking blood from her lips with a pleased look on her face. They’d encountered each other once before, but Abra decides this is as good a time as any to get to know her better.

Living dead girl steps into the pool of crimson plasma. Two-toned eyes gaze up curiously at the laughing lady before looking down at the ground. Her ebony hooves becomes covered in the thick liquid, and she gives a wry smile. “You sure have some good handiwork,” Abra states, chuckling. “How is it that you’re not a warrior yet?”

I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams

[Jackel]

jackel

My sides quiver with every heaving breath I take; fueled by the adrenaline and whimsicality fresh from the recent chase.  I'm only mildly aware of the approaching footfalls as my attention remains upon the cooling flesh in front of me.  I'm staring and imagining would it would be like if my strength was greater and my teeth were sharper.  Oh there could be so many possibilities.  Closing my eyes tightly and raising my head toward the painted sky I laugh again, as if all my wildest dreams could come true.

There's a voice then, and at first I cast it off as one of the many in my head.  That voice is so similar to another I know.  But as my head lowers down to the collection of spilled blood, I see the female nightmare standing nearby.  I lower my head enough to dip my nose into the red, submerging it as well as I can before withdrawing to an upright position.  My mask of crimson points in her direction then, smiling with the purest innocence of a newborn babe, the only deception is my manic eyes that stare wildly at her.  "I lack certain disciplines."  The smile fades a degree then, "Okay I lack all discipline."

Laughing wildly then, I return to the boulder that helped me to embrace my prey.  It was already shaded with the deep maroon of fading blood.  I use the liquid upon my lips as the most beautiful of mediums to paint what I hope to be the most obscene of gestures aimed at the giants around me.  I had counted on them to help me in my pursuit.  They had let me down when I could have used me the most to use their gnarled limbs to slow the creature down.  But no.  Instead they jumped out of her way it seemed, choosing to reach and clutch at my golden body as I passed them by.  I am rather put off by the large of it and it shows in the suggestive scribbles I put on display for them to admire.

When I am pleased enough with my masterpiece, I turn to look at the ring of giants while I sneer and smile at the same time.  This is not enough.

After refilling my tool with its medium I make my way in a circle, brushing the red viscosity of myself and my victims along their cumbersome bodies.  And when I come to the female nightmare I gift her with the sacrificial liquid also before repetitively circling the same path again.  Passing her by again I whisper nearby, "Red looks good on you, sweetling."  

But I'm not done yet.  Again and again I creep in a circle amongst the giants, stepping over the heap of the broken body with every pass.  There would be whispers now, oh yes.  But I am ready for the gossip.  Let them talk.  Laughing wildly, I creep my circle again and again.

all this joy, I've got some to share

devin's∇designs

@[Abra]

[Abra]

Abra

The golden mare is a special brand of psycho, and Abra finds that she quite likes it. In the world of seriousness, it was refreshing to find someone who had a...crazier approach to evil.

The lady laughs, and Abra is drawn to it. Sweet psychosis, this mare entrances her. Soon, she too is laughing as Jackel brushes by her, soft lips tenderly painting red the black of her skin. Abra herself dips her maw into the crimson pool, tasting the metallic flavor, painting the trees like her golden counterpart.

They come to a crossroads, and Abra stares deeply into the laughing lady’s dark eyes. “Beautiful girl, you’ve got me dizzy…” She murmurs, touching her stained lips to Jackel’s cheek. “Go crazy on me.”

I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams

@[Jackel] Abra has been swooned xD

[Jackel]

Again and again and again and again I make my rounds.  I've lost count of how many times I've actually stepped across the rotting bag of bones by now.  It's only when my improvised paint begins to clot and  dry that I finally start to slow my advances.  However I am not entirely placated by the artistry of my work--it could do with some more finishing touches, I'll admit. But for now it will have to do given my limited resources.

I've begun my final path I realize as I come face to face with the  ebony stare of the female nightmare.   Unable to move around her and continue with my rhythmic dance, I am left with little choice but to indulge her.  The girls words meet with swiveling ears as my wild eyes roll within their sockets, always assessing and reassessing the situation as it unfurling.  And I cannot help but to smile almost demurely as the girl's statement settles into my pretty little head. I say almost demurely because that is not at all what my smile looks like.  My usual cheshire grin is displayed widely upon my face in all of its blinding beauty.  And then gravity begins to tug my head sideways, falling to tilt at its usual precarious angle.

Within the quickest blink of an eye I am in front of her, closing what little gap was left to linger between us.  I'm but a hairs breadth away from her, audibly forcing a savory inhale through flared nares before blowing a warm, teasing breath upon her neckline, tickling the nerves that rest beneath her flawless charcoal skin.  My voice is practically a whisper above the ring of locusts claiming the hazy night, "Misguided girl, are you aware of what you are asking for?"

@[Abra]