[LOG] Old Ways (Atone x Snow Storm)
Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2019 5:10 pm
[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgright] A foul mood had taken root in Atone the moment the slant of sun had peeked above the horizon. It was a bad combination and she'd tried--dear spirits had she tried--to remind herself she wanted to be better, different. The chanting confined to her mind, however, seemed to be no match for the pure irritability that pressure turned into clear rage.
She had tried to sequester herself to the grove. Only the longer she kept herself occupied, the more she found dug into her skin like thorns. The weeds in one section were impossible to pull. Flowers in another had attracted, of all things, a turtle. She'd gone back to the weeds, slamming hooves into the dirt, only to almost damage the flowers. With a disgusted growl, she'd torn herself away from the garden and stormed out into the swamp. An uncaged storm that was ready to decimate.
Apparently, in this realm, a death glare did not in fact cause death. That, at least, was the only thing she could think of as the doe leapt upward, hooves cracking against her own back scales, and causing her to stumble until she, too, was sprawled out on the ground. As she lay there, rage spinning wild, she felt the last holds on her temper snap.
She stormed to her feet, each hoof crashing down with a thud against the dry swamp mud. With malice blazing in her eyes, she glowered at the white doe. Was she alright; what a stupid, reprehensible question!
"Oh, perfectly fine. It's just so relaxing to have my back almost broken by a special snowflake like you!" she seethed, each word spit with such hot ferocity as a hoof slammed into the ground. And the closer she came, the more it was clear any sort of reprieve or forgiveness were unlikely.
Atone's face contorted, lips curling in distaste, "Do I look like I care what your stupid name is?" It wasn't a yell or even a scream. Rather it was a low snark that left no doubt how unimportant the doe thought the clumsy fool was except in how much rage was to be thrown her way. She took a measured step forward, teeth pressed together so tight her jaw muscles were taut, as she decreased the distance between them.
"An accident," she laughed, high and ringing like a whirling tornado. "As is your entire existence!" The laughter cracked into a cruel sneer. "As for your apology," she began, the doe lashed out, a hoof kicking viciously out at the other's leg. "I'm sorry." The mocking tone was clear, "Does that make it all better?" she spat.
"Welcome to the real world, dear," she hissed, "There's cruelty and pain here rather than that fairy tale drivel you've likely been force fed. No rainbows and true love's kiss. Just harsh cold reality." The sneer on the doe's face was startling and disturbingly obvious that someone or something had hurt her badly.
A high-pitched laugh crescendoed until she was bearing down on the fear-stricken Snow. Bared teeth inches from the other doe, it was a miracle that there was any space between them at all.
"Oh and of course that makes it all better," she spat. "But you can make it up to me, yes," and now her voice purred, face softening into something altogether attractive but dangerous. The voice which had been everything but pleasant now rang with a note of siren-song seduction, "You can suffer, pet, until I shove an apple down your fair throat and you choke to death." And then she stood up and laughed, a whirlwind of hysteria and rage that left her temporarily blind and offered a prime opportunity for escape.
She had tried to sequester herself to the grove. Only the longer she kept herself occupied, the more she found dug into her skin like thorns. The weeds in one section were impossible to pull. Flowers in another had attracted, of all things, a turtle. She'd gone back to the weeds, slamming hooves into the dirt, only to almost damage the flowers. With a disgusted growl, she'd torn herself away from the garden and stormed out into the swamp. An uncaged storm that was ready to decimate.
[imgright]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/images/rejam/snowstorm_chrystali.gif[/imgright]
The storm had been unleashed, and true to her name, Snow Storm was about to blunder right into it. Literally.
She'd been running, as she often was -- not from or to anything, but because she could -- barreling through the swamp land, hooves kicking up wet clods and dead foliage alike, her expression completely writ with glee. This was her freedom, the running, the challenge of herself to go until her lungs burned and her legs were as wobbly as a water-logged leaf.
Snow was fully prepared to wax her poetic in her mind about how great it felt to be running, but that was about the time her eyes suddenly focused and she barely saw that there was a very pissed off doe in her path. With a faint cry of surprise, she leaped over the striped doe the best she could, though her inability to have seen the other sooner cost her hooves clacking against the spikes on the other female's back.
Not exactly gracefully, she landed partially on her hooves, and then went hind quarters over head, tumbling to a stop a short ways away. Not one to be fettered by a spill, she immediately jumped to her hooves, her eyes enormous. "Are you okay?" fell with worry from her lips, breath held in her chest and one hoof lifted as her steps faltered.
Apparently, in this realm, a death glare did not in fact cause death. That, at least, was the only thing she could think of as the doe leapt upward, hooves cracking against her own back scales, and causing her to stumble until she, too, was sprawled out on the ground. As she lay there, rage spinning wild, she felt the last holds on her temper snap.
She stormed to her feet, each hoof crashing down with a thud against the dry swamp mud. With malice blazing in her eyes, she glowered at the white doe. Was she alright; what a stupid, reprehensible question!
"Oh, perfectly fine. It's just so relaxing to have my back almost broken by a special snowflake like you!" she seethed, each word spit with such hot ferocity as a hoof slammed into the ground. And the closer she came, the more it was clear any sort of reprieve or forgiveness were unlikely.
"Snow...Storm," she offered needlessly at the name given, realizing perhaps a little late that it wasn't exactly an endearment. Her ears fell and she ducked her head a little, embarrassed and ashamed but also a touch offended enough to not be entirely submissive and flee. She did have enough sense to back up, to try and give the angry doe some berth, but it seemed space was the very last thing the other had on her mind.
"Itwasanaccident, I'msorry--" she ran her words together, wondering even if she could turn tail and run, if the furious female wouldn't just leap on her and tear her apart like prey herself...
Atone's face contorted, lips curling in distaste, "Do I look like I care what your stupid name is?" It wasn't a yell or even a scream. Rather it was a low snark that left no doubt how unimportant the doe thought the clumsy fool was except in how much rage was to be thrown her way. She took a measured step forward, teeth pressed together so tight her jaw muscles were taut, as she decreased the distance between them.
"An accident," she laughed, high and ringing like a whirling tornado. "As is your entire existence!" The laughter cracked into a cruel sneer. "As for your apology," she began, the doe lashed out, a hoof kicking viciously out at the other's leg. "I'm sorry." The mocking tone was clear, "Does that make it all better?" she spat.
Oh, MotherFather, she'd run into one of the crazies. Snow cringed and continued to take wavering steps backwards, trying to stand tall, but it was hard against the onslaught of cruelty and anger that was seething from the other. "I -- "
She was struck, crying out and stumbling in her backwards march, falling down heavily on her side, tucking the injured leg against her chest as though to protect herself. The pain of it threaded into her shoulder, making her eyes water with the effort to keep herself calm. It wasn't working, obvious in the tremor of the line of her jaw and the way her ears flattened between fear and panic against her neck. "That -- that wasn't a-an accident," she stammered softly, ducking lower still.
"I n-never meant to hurt you! What can I -- how can I m-make it up?" Snow shirked back further, as if in anticipation of being struck at again.
"Welcome to the real world, dear," she hissed, "There's cruelty and pain here rather than that fairy tale drivel you've likely been force fed. No rainbows and true love's kiss. Just harsh cold reality." The sneer on the doe's face was startling and disturbingly obvious that someone or something had hurt her badly.
A high-pitched laugh crescendoed until she was bearing down on the fear-stricken Snow. Bared teeth inches from the other doe, it was a miracle that there was any space between them at all.
"Oh and of course that makes it all better," she spat. "But you can make it up to me, yes," and now her voice purred, face softening into something altogether attractive but dangerous. The voice which had been everything but pleasant now rang with a note of siren-song seduction, "You can suffer, pet, until I shove an apple down your fair throat and you choke to death." And then she stood up and laughed, a whirlwind of hysteria and rage that left her temporarily blind and offered a prime opportunity for escape.