Can you please sit the fuck down?
He is fucking FURIOUS! Why does nothing work? He has tried and tried and TRIED and still NOTHING! He still remains the same!
A dig of pain rips in his belly for the hunger of flesh but try as he might, he can not turn. Yellow eyes are burning, burning, burning. The savagery of this all beckons the stallion to simply screech in a fit of rage. Everything had changed and so had he.
Some time passes before Phynn is able to get his shit together. The feral beast still lived in him, still yelped and howled and gnashed with yellow teeth. It burned and clawed but the dark stallion is unable to release it. Lids fall over his eyes as he sighs, angry and boiling like a vat of hot tar. He does not know how to function.
From the day he fell out of his mother's twat as a cub, the stallion is more hyena than horse. This sleek dark pelt was too tight...too clean. A tongue runs over flat teeth with a sneer but the ripple of hunger breaks his thoughts and so he must humble himself to eat blasted grass. Anger seethes from every pore as he forces the vegetation down his throat with disgust.
Damn you Beqanna, you fucking fickle bitch.
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