10-17-2018, 09:01 PM
Stealth is not the game she holds interest in today, or keeping the distance between herself and an attacker either for that matter. For now, her interest is held more in the realm of how she would fair during a time when she’s caught unaware. With gray tinged sunlight falling over her freckled body and her eyes drifting shut, she lives the imagined scenario where she might be dozing along the shores, lured into a false sense of security by the familiarity of her own home.
Try as she might, the rouse against herself doesn’t go entirely as she planned when the distinct sounds of heavy footfalls shatter the faux peace that had settled over her. But she clutches at the remains of her faltering self deception, releasing a held breath steadily while easing her frame to loosen. She forcibly remembers the purpose of the circumstances—to learn something.
Only when he’s near enough does her eye snap open, rolling back to catch his head drop and aim for an unprotected limb. Acting on subconscious accordance, Breckin’s leg rises from the ground, perhaps it would have been a meager attempt at a kick towards him, but she would never really know. There was no time to react before his dagger lined mouth finds a hold on her mane. And in another split second the arched slope of her shoulder realigns with the jagged rock wall, finding herself vice locked between the cold restraint of the cliff and the warmth of Leilan’s body holding her there.
Struggling, she tries to push and pull herself in the only directions that aren’t completely barred. The attempt is futile (she already knows that in a battle of sheer strength she would not rise the victor), but her lack in brawn allows for the expansion of cunning and wit. As she attempts to distract her mock attacker with as much weighted force against him as she can muster, her mind splices outward searching for a means to her survival. For as well as she actually does, the maintenance of her deception is hard to keep up, finding the frigid bite of stone scraping her side raw nearly impossibly distracting. But her efforts are hard fought, and her telekinetic outreach recoils back towards the pair eagerly.
Suddenly she stills, turning a wildly dark gaze back towards the scaled stallion for her eyes to trace over her prize. Hovering just to either side of his handsome face and lying in wait are two fragments of sharpened onyx slag. With a subtle tilt of her ivory head, they rotate forward, balancing precariously in the air not far from either of his beautiful eyes. The intent of the dual daggers is clear-- maim their target and obstruct their attacker’s eyesight. Even if they should miss their true mark, enough damage might be inflicted to hinder the sight as a result of bloodied wounds draining over the head. And perhaps then, when enough attention was off of herself, she’d be able to duck away, just in time for the horse skull sized boulder that also lay nearby in wait, to be launched in a blow aimed to force her attacker into the wall as she had been.
But all these thoughts simply remain as just that—thoughts. They are nothing more than a mediocre plan that her nearly exhausted brain could piece together within the breadth of a few heartbeats. The success of this plan may never go truly tested. In spite of adrenaline fueled thrum in her veins and the quickening pace of the heart in her chest, the rising heat of the moment could not sway her into even attempting to half-heartedly do him any damage.
The ache of her heaving sides remind her of the shallow breaths she’d been taking resulting from her ragged movements to maneuver herself out of Leilan’s hold. But it’s only when the swells of the breaths he takes begin to work in a rhythmic tandem with her own—the rise and fall of his chest so perfectly matching her own--that her fallen line of vision moves back to him. Nearly forgotten, the impromptu weapons begin to drift lazily away as she shifts her head, surprisingly encouraged by the dull pain it evokes from the pulling of her mane so perfectly placed between his predatory teeth. Breckin’s emblazoned stare searches hungrily for his and a selfish curiosity warps her ambitions while pressing her body into further into his as much as he would allow.
“Yes, you do.”
@[Leilan]
Try as she might, the rouse against herself doesn’t go entirely as she planned when the distinct sounds of heavy footfalls shatter the faux peace that had settled over her. But she clutches at the remains of her faltering self deception, releasing a held breath steadily while easing her frame to loosen. She forcibly remembers the purpose of the circumstances—to learn something.
Only when he’s near enough does her eye snap open, rolling back to catch his head drop and aim for an unprotected limb. Acting on subconscious accordance, Breckin’s leg rises from the ground, perhaps it would have been a meager attempt at a kick towards him, but she would never really know. There was no time to react before his dagger lined mouth finds a hold on her mane. And in another split second the arched slope of her shoulder realigns with the jagged rock wall, finding herself vice locked between the cold restraint of the cliff and the warmth of Leilan’s body holding her there.
Struggling, she tries to push and pull herself in the only directions that aren’t completely barred. The attempt is futile (she already knows that in a battle of sheer strength she would not rise the victor), but her lack in brawn allows for the expansion of cunning and wit. As she attempts to distract her mock attacker with as much weighted force against him as she can muster, her mind splices outward searching for a means to her survival. For as well as she actually does, the maintenance of her deception is hard to keep up, finding the frigid bite of stone scraping her side raw nearly impossibly distracting. But her efforts are hard fought, and her telekinetic outreach recoils back towards the pair eagerly.
Suddenly she stills, turning a wildly dark gaze back towards the scaled stallion for her eyes to trace over her prize. Hovering just to either side of his handsome face and lying in wait are two fragments of sharpened onyx slag. With a subtle tilt of her ivory head, they rotate forward, balancing precariously in the air not far from either of his beautiful eyes. The intent of the dual daggers is clear-- maim their target and obstruct their attacker’s eyesight. Even if they should miss their true mark, enough damage might be inflicted to hinder the sight as a result of bloodied wounds draining over the head. And perhaps then, when enough attention was off of herself, she’d be able to duck away, just in time for the horse skull sized boulder that also lay nearby in wait, to be launched in a blow aimed to force her attacker into the wall as she had been.
But all these thoughts simply remain as just that—thoughts. They are nothing more than a mediocre plan that her nearly exhausted brain could piece together within the breadth of a few heartbeats. The success of this plan may never go truly tested. In spite of adrenaline fueled thrum in her veins and the quickening pace of the heart in her chest, the rising heat of the moment could not sway her into even attempting to half-heartedly do him any damage.
The ache of her heaving sides remind her of the shallow breaths she’d been taking resulting from her ragged movements to maneuver herself out of Leilan’s hold. But it’s only when the swells of the breaths he takes begin to work in a rhythmic tandem with her own—the rise and fall of his chest so perfectly matching her own--that her fallen line of vision moves back to him. Nearly forgotten, the impromptu weapons begin to drift lazily away as she shifts her head, surprisingly encouraged by the dull pain it evokes from the pulling of her mane so perfectly placed between his predatory teeth. Breckin’s emblazoned stare searches hungrily for his and a selfish curiosity warps her ambitions while pressing her body into further into his as much as he would allow.
“Yes, you do.”
@[Leilan]