bad habits //thorny

[aPPY]

Ramaskith

Ramaskith pinned his ears as the stag kicked at him, unhappy. Just because he struck out didn't give Scathashoun permission to. Although, he admired the strength that seemed buried within the creature; bore into his core. The stag then breathed against his face; against the wound he had previously inflicted before nipping at his ear and speaking to him. The spirit stood still, waiting for the stallion to finish is question, his teeth sinking into his upper neck. He wasn't going to allow much more from this Scathashoun and he was already getting tired of him. It seemed camaraderie was not an option in his mind, at least not with this one. If her were to select someone to keep nearby he would have to have the patience and the tolerance, but alas, it was out of reach for him now. Scathashoun finished his question, finally, following with a harsh bite to his shoulder. The spirit stamped a hoof, quickly twisting and digging his own daggers into the flesh of the other stallion, just about fed up. He needed to watch himself if he wanted to live. But the stallion continued to bite into him, unaware of the threat that Rama and the spirit posed. Rama himself surged forward, happy to have the chance to attack the stag. The spirit quickly faded, waiting for his little annoyance (see: real soul) to strike. He had grown bored with this stag, and now their pelt was streaked with red and several sharp stings. This simply, would not do.

Ramaskith tilted his head, swinging his body out of reach of the other stallion. "Now there, getting ahead of ourselves aren't we?" he asked, loosing all the usual charm from his voice. There was no one to charm here, just an ignorant stallion to be punished. It was as though he and the spirit had switched, the spirit being the charismatic one; luring them in. And now Rama, the one carrying out the process, stepping forward to kill the brute in front of him. He supposed it was correct, him not having killed many stallions; only mares as they were easy to seduce because of the words he spoke and the colors that painted his pelt. It would only be fitting that they would switch roles when the other sex presented itself; adapting to the situation at hand but ending the same way. With dead and blood and terror, mixed with fear and organs and screams. Yes, it was quite fitting. Ramaskith smiled, his mid quickly picking a way to attack within milliseconds, how body a blur as he rushed forward.

Just as Rama's pelt was painted red, he too opened wounds on Scathashoun to match his own; although the just added to the darkness of the pelt and making it appear slick and sticky. Hit bit deep and hard, his teeth easily sinking into the dark flesh with practiced precision and accuracy. He assumed the pearly whites had become slightly sharper over the years, after biting into so many different equines over and over. They still obtained their whiteness at least, leaving nothing out of place for the next victim to see. His breath was still golden, untouched by that smell some had; he didn't eat the meat, he just killed it and left it to rot in the sun. That's what he would do to this stallion's body; leave it to rot. It would produce a most unpleasant smell to match his most unpleasant character. The spirit smiled darkly, waiting for the blood to truly run. Yes, they both had their free flowing wounds, but it wasn't truly flowing just yet.

// 617 words
just. nothing here.
Rama doesn't like Scath at all..
Although the spirit was mildly interested, he too doesn't quite like him.