[His hand is on her cheek, just below a dilated pupil and storm dark iris surrounded by fearful exposed white. His fingers are hot with Estinien’s blood and humors. Her weight is heavy still on her back, triggering all of the instinctive fears she had spent her life suppressing in order to stand proud as if she weren’t only a single level above the chattel humans called Armless.
In that second, as her eyes roll back, as her body seizes, prepares some new way to throw him from her body, her gaze catches on the flaming white of wings and scales above them.
Then those already blood-stained fingers plunge into her left eye socket and a feral scream rings out over Achamoth.
At first, despite the searing pain and sensation of pulling, ripping, she cannot truly realize what had happened. The pain is so intense that she can’t take stock yet without risking collapse or heave, she can only react, over seven feet and a half ton of muscle hyper focused only on getting her opponent off, she has to get him off.
An animal could only kick and slam, but Hayame is not an animal. Throwing her body into a violent series of bucks, lowering her upper body to try and force him further up her withers as blood pours into (from?) her eye, she suddenly whips herself back upward, twisting from the “waist” with a rabid, fang-filled snarl and snapping to grab at the front of his clothing with her left hand—-
So that she might drag him from her back and slam him back to earth, towards the trampling, crushing slam of her front hooves.]
no subject
In that second, as her eyes roll back, as her body seizes, prepares some new way to throw him from her body, her gaze catches on the flaming white of wings and scales above them.
Then those already blood-stained fingers plunge into her left eye socket and a feral scream rings out over Achamoth.
At first, despite the searing pain and sensation of pulling, ripping, she cannot truly realize what had happened. The pain is so intense that she can’t take stock yet without risking collapse or heave, she can only react, over seven feet and a half ton of muscle hyper focused only on getting her opponent off, she has to get him off.
An animal could only kick and slam, but Hayame is not an animal. Throwing her body into a violent series of bucks, lowering her upper body to try and force him further up her withers as blood pours into (from?) her eye, she suddenly whips herself back upward, twisting from the “waist” with a rabid, fang-filled snarl and snapping to grab at the front of his clothing with her left hand—-
So that she might drag him from her back and slam him back to earth, towards the trampling, crushing slam of her front hooves.]