12-02-2016, 01:41 AM
He watches the change in his eyes. How they went from concerned and fearful to acceptance and something like determination. He wants to laugh, but doesn't yet. The other boy is going to play his game. Willingly. Not that he had much choice in the matter. Zoryn would attack. And attack. Until he ran or fought back. In this case, the other chooses to stand and face him. Good. Less of a waste of time. Bring on the pain.
Satisfaction starts to curb his fiery appetite when he feels the colt's flesh between his teeth. The black rips away from the gold and white, and he licks his lips eagerly as he tastes his blood. He fights a moan. It isn't quite good enough yet. Zor grins at his adversary as they circle each other and he taunts him. "As you wish." The boy says to him, and Zor narrows his eyes at his even tone. He doesn't want him even. He wants him unbalanced, off-centered. He wants him to feel pain! And return the favor. He pins his ears and snorts impatiently as the other eyes him, uncertain and contemplative. Zoryn feels every fiber of his being firing up. His skin itches, twitching randomly in his shoulder, muscles bunching and rippling with his every step. The amethyst specks in his brown eyes glint in anticipation as he watches, expectant.
Finally! The boy makes a move and charges across their circle. He is ready, power bunching his muscles as he tucks his chin to his chest and half-rears, striking out with a forelimb, hopefully making contact with his head, neck or even shoulder. He is ready for the bite, but it doesn't come. Pity. He lands himself as the boy instead feints to the right and moves to swing his rump around. At his previous angle, the blow would have hit his ribcage, but Zoryn is quick and turns with him (his left, Dovev's right). He isn't seeking permanent damage, afterall. Though the pain would be delicious. When the black colt strikes out with his hinds, the brunt force of his rear right hoof scrapes over his barrel and knocks into the fleshy part above his stifle. He groans this time, a sound a mixture of pain and pleasure. The boy doesn't break skin, but Zoryn would likely bruise later. For now, he relishes it and moves to bite and kick his hindquarters as they land and then retreat.
He makes an angry sound as the black boy moves away, back into the circle. "Tell me that's not all you've got." He snarles at him through bared teeth, ears buried under his wild black mane. Zoryn doesn't give him time to mull over an answer, chasing him from behind. A dark thought enters his mind, hardens him, but he shoves it away. Or tries. Quickly coming up on his left hind, the tobiano gears his fores and shoves hard into his hindquarter with his neck and right shoulder, at the same time aiming a bite to the left forelimb (upper forearm, hopefully above elbow where it's fleshy and tender). Every move here is meant to unbalance, maybe even knock him over. If his bite is successful, he'd clamp down upon contact, seeking to drag down, their bodies parallel. If not, he will swing his hind out and away to the left, angling himself inward to face Dovev and readying to rear.
Do something about it.
Satisfaction starts to curb his fiery appetite when he feels the colt's flesh between his teeth. The black rips away from the gold and white, and he licks his lips eagerly as he tastes his blood. He fights a moan. It isn't quite good enough yet. Zor grins at his adversary as they circle each other and he taunts him. "As you wish." The boy says to him, and Zor narrows his eyes at his even tone. He doesn't want him even. He wants him unbalanced, off-centered. He wants him to feel pain! And return the favor. He pins his ears and snorts impatiently as the other eyes him, uncertain and contemplative. Zoryn feels every fiber of his being firing up. His skin itches, twitching randomly in his shoulder, muscles bunching and rippling with his every step. The amethyst specks in his brown eyes glint in anticipation as he watches, expectant.
Finally! The boy makes a move and charges across their circle. He is ready, power bunching his muscles as he tucks his chin to his chest and half-rears, striking out with a forelimb, hopefully making contact with his head, neck or even shoulder. He is ready for the bite, but it doesn't come. Pity. He lands himself as the boy instead feints to the right and moves to swing his rump around. At his previous angle, the blow would have hit his ribcage, but Zoryn is quick and turns with him (his left, Dovev's right). He isn't seeking permanent damage, afterall. Though the pain would be delicious. When the black colt strikes out with his hinds, the brunt force of his rear right hoof scrapes over his barrel and knocks into the fleshy part above his stifle. He groans this time, a sound a mixture of pain and pleasure. The boy doesn't break skin, but Zoryn would likely bruise later. For now, he relishes it and moves to bite and kick his hindquarters as they land and then retreat.
He makes an angry sound as the black boy moves away, back into the circle. "Tell me that's not all you've got." He snarles at him through bared teeth, ears buried under his wild black mane. Zoryn doesn't give him time to mull over an answer, chasing him from behind. A dark thought enters his mind, hardens him, but he shoves it away. Or tries. Quickly coming up on his left hind, the tobiano gears his fores and shoves hard into his hindquarter with his neck and right shoulder, at the same time aiming a bite to the left forelimb (upper forearm, hopefully above elbow where it's fleshy and tender). Every move here is meant to unbalance, maybe even knock him over. If his bite is successful, he'd clamp down upon contact, seeking to drag down, their bodies parallel. If not, he will swing his hind out and away to the left, angling himself inward to face Dovev and readying to rear.
Do something about it.