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 Posted: Fri Jul 08, 2016 2:32 pm
She still wasn't running. What an interesting, exciting playmate he had found himself. He was going to be sad when this game ended, Mercy decided. Oh, and not only that! Mercy practically cackled as he watched her drop a feather for him, the pretty blue and purple feather laying in the dirt in front of him. He nosed it idly, humming happily to himself, finally picking it up between his teeth and tucking it into his pelt, letting it stick into the thick fur securely. He twisted his neck to admire the color against him, considered for a moment, before grinning and turning back to the mare.
"Well, now, I do quite like that," he said, a giddiness in his voice. "I quite like it a lot, actually. In fact, I like it so much, that I've changed my mind. I think I will take your wings when I win." Feathers were his absolute favorite--they reminded him of something that he could never quite put a hoof on. "But since you love your pretty wings so much, I can even rip your throat out before I take them though, if you'd like. Or after," he offered as an afterthought with a shrug. "A courtesy as thanks for your gift," he taunted.
"Now that the prize is settled," he continued, creeping closer to her and backing her slowly into a cluster of trees. "The rules are simple: stay away from me long enough to fly far far away, little pigeon. That's it. All you have to do it not get caught. Simple as that." His smile implied that it was anything but simple. "I'll even give you a head start out of the kindness of my black little heart."
"You have one minute to get running, pigeon. I suggest you use it well." His eyes were wide, crazed in excitement, and his grin stretched across his face, wider than it had been forever in anticipation. Mercy turned around though, placing his back against her, and started the countdown. "Sixty...fifty-nine-...fifty-eight..."
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 9:12 pm
 Her golden eyes grew wide in shock at his change in thought and there was a flicker of sorrow in them. The surprise had caused her to not realize how he had corralled her to a highly dense area. Her voice was but a murmur. "Does that mean we won't ever see each other again?" There was even a little sorrow behind her words. While she understood how truly cruel he could be she still had questions she wanted to ask. She wanted to understand if he made that pelt himself or when he discovered his enjoyment of the suffering of others. Countless questions flooded her mind that she wanted to ask.
No question was worth her wings though and it seemed that was his newest desire. The feather only served to dig her further into this terrible situation. She pouted a little and bowed her head in respect, "It was very.. interesting meeting you Sir Mercy. Thank you for your kindness and patience. I'm sorry you can't have my wings so this is goodbye. Please take care of yourself." Even if he wished her harm, Kuwanyauma couldn't ever bring herself to wish ill on another. While this encounter would scar her for the rest of her life, her intention and well wishing was true.
Immediately she turned and wiggled her small frame passed a few trees that she thought would be more challenging for him to get through and with all of her might, she took off, wings partially opened to help give her running speed a bit of lift as she tried her best to weave and navigate through the dense brush. He had done incredibly well to ensure the challenge was a well met one, for if this had been open space, she could outrun him with the greatest of ease. Her normal speed was greatly hindered as she was forced to navigate and even kick off from roots and branches that had fallen. Despite this the mare was fairly quick.. but had it been quick enough?WC: 340
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Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2016 5:44 am
Mercy vibrated in excited, pacing back and forth as he counted down from a minute. His short nub of tail flicked to and fro as he slowly started to reach the end of his counting and he throw his head back in glee was he finished. "Three...two...one!" he said, raising his voice on the last number as he spun around. "Ready or not...here I come!" he announced, voice dark and eager and his grin wide, showing off the rows of his shiny, immaculate teeth. He took a mere second to look at the surrounding, his eyes expertly darting to notice the trail of snapped twigs down that path on the left and the partial hoof print that she had left behind in the slightly softer, moist dirt.
The little bird had chosen her path well, and the challenge only made Mercy's blood boil in anticipation. Her path was narrow, cluttered with trees that would be easy enough for her small frame to slide between but took an extra second for Mercy to wiggle is bulkier frame past. Assuming Mercy would bother to wiggle, that is. He plowed his way through, snapping branches and scraping himself against rough bark as he ran past and followed the little pigeon's trail. He could feel a few of the branches leaving thick scratches against his flank and recognized the sting of the shallow cuts. The faintest scent of his own blood that wafted to his noise only made his mouth water, imagining the hot, coppery taste.
The little pigeon was fast but speed would only help her so much. She would turn herself in circles along this path which was denser and harder to navigate. What she had bought herself in speed, she had lost in actually finding an exit toward the sky.
Mercy followed her trail, his chest heaving and the pain of the exertion sending tingles through his body. He stopped at an intersection, his eyes darting left and right. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called out, sing-song and mocking, knowing that she could probably hear him. He let the silence wash over him in the aftermath, his eyes closed and head tilted as he carefully listened. A twig snapped in the distance, and the chase was on again.
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