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 Posted: Fri Mar 18, 2011 7:01 pm
Wyrsa watched the other mare's eyes - they were cloudy and distant. It wasn't just pain. The Skinwalker wondered what it was Edith saw. Something from the past? Or perhaps a glimpse of her future, though that could only be brief.
The black mare paced slowly around the fallen Kalona, until she stood directly in front of her rival. Her breath had slowed and she was calm, at least as calm as she ever was.
"I think you know exactly what," Wyrsa whispered back. She watched the other mare struggling to cling to life and pride and her lips curved in a smile. The smile grew and revealed her bloodstained fangs again, but those weren't the weapons she chose, not this time.
She raised her leg, a part of her that hadn't really changed in any significant way since Tlocatl first looked down upon her for being groundbound. It was fitting to make this her weapon now.
Wyrsa slammed her hoof down on Edith's skull.
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Posted: Sat Mar 19, 2011 5:15 pm
"So...." Edith gasped for air. "I guess. I do." She watched as the rugged mongrel took her time, grinning her blood-stained fangs and lifted a leg.
...and then she came, not that she knew that she had just given birth to daughter. But as the basket turned colors when the foal was secured inside, Edith named her.
Her vision darkened as Edith smiled fondly for the last time. "...Eztli..." was the name they gave their daughter.
---
Tlocatl didn't know how much time had passed, but through the haze of consciousness he heard his daughter's name whispered from Edith's lips.
And then, a sickening crunch. Even though he had not the strength to fully come to, the stallion knew what had happened. His heart jumped into his throat and he felt a part of himself go die with her.
"No!" he managed to wail quietly as the darkness took him again.
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Posted: Sat Mar 19, 2011 6:08 pm
It was a satisfying thing, to crush her rival with her own hoof. And the kill was as wonderful a thrill as anything could be. Wyrsa felt strong, powerful and utterly in control. She considered using the dead mare as a meal, but no, the wench had kept her pride, had never really been prey. Just in the way. Besides, it would only be fair to leave Tlocatl something to mourn.
He'd cried out, briefly, as she shattered the mare's skull and smashed her brain. But he was quite unconscious now. And completely at her mercy. She wouldn't kill him, not yet, he would suffer so much more if she let him live. And she wouldn't maim him, not too much, while he wasn't conscious enough to be aware of what she did.
But it wasn't enough to simply kill the interloper and leave Tlocatl with only the wounds of their fight. She wanted to leave him a clear...memento. He was hers, and only hers, and Edith's fate was what would happen to any other mare he chose over Wyrsa.
After several minutes standing over his unconscious body, debating what to leave him with, Wyrsa made up her mind. Gently, almost delicately, she knelt down beside him and took one of his forelegs in her mouth. Biting down until she pierced the skin, she savored the taste of his blood once more. Then, viciously, she brought her jaws together, ripping out that mouthful of flesh. Chewing, she thought about how the wound would probably never fully heal, and how he would likely curse her with every limping step.
His curses could never mean anything to her, of course. Not after her entire life had changed due to the Curse. Rising once more, Wyrsa's eye fell on Edith's dismembered tail. It was a long, graceful thing, or had been when attached to the dead mare's body. The Skinwalker considered it for a moment, then decided it would make a fine prize. She grasped the tail in her jaws, careful to not damage it further at this time and, with one last possesively hate-filled glance for Tlocatl, trotted off into the darkness of night. A trail of blood, dripping from the severed tail and from Wyrsa's own wounds, followed behind her.
The night was young, her blood was hot with victory, life was good.
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Posted: Sat Mar 19, 2011 6:54 pm
When Tlocatl finally awoke, it was to searing pain. With a moan, the moment sank in when he remembered all that happened.
"EDITH" he shouted, faithless hope dripping his voice. His eyes shot open in the bright glaring sun, and the first thing he saw was the ground soaked in her sweet lifeblood.
The stallion jumped to his feet, only to collapse again. He didn't even feel the pain shooting up his leg, not the fact that he could hardly move it. Tlocatl crawled to the side of his beloved, tears he had never shed before streaming down his eyes.
"Oh, Edith... I am so sorry," he pleaded, as if his words could bring her back. Shoving his nose in her short mane, he did not see that her precious face was sunken it or that her tail was gone. She was still his perfect mare and always would be. "It is all my fault."
He cried in her mane every day until the rocks and branches he painstakingly pushed to cover her body would no longer his tender action.
Tlocatl held watch despite his growing hunger. Day by day, his body healed so slowly. He could eventually walk, his body gaining nutrients from bugs and vermin that came his way. His body wasted away while his leg healed wrong. But the once proud kalona was unaware of it all. All he knew was the pain of Edith's passing and knowing that he was the cause of it, for Wyrsa would always lay claim to his life - even though Edith had his heart.
In the pathetic semblance he now knew as life, Tlocatl limped away from the makeshift grave. In search for... was he searching for anything? Nothing else mattered anymore.
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