I'm gonna go back

somewhere around the coast, im angry so she angry

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Vendrussel wasn't perfect. She tried to keep her cool ; especially as she realized what she had done. The gravity of so and the understanding of this lands culture, and how they felt about particular things. Even she too came to an understanding with a remorse, a regret flooding over as she.. She was too quick to try and prove herself ; to prove to her ford that she can protect them and stand her ground. Brave and powerful as the dragons, bah! She couldn't even keep her fucking packmates.

Those she trusted, swerved and called her a coward, called her like someone who could not understand — she tried! Oh so she tried. But it wasn't enough for them. It didn't feel enough, for even her. Nothing seemed enough for the mantle she took on, and yet, felt why did the ancients give her this dream? To claim such a place and strive forth ; why, her?

Why does she have to take their burdens on? The brute of it and be judged and thought so — thoughts and words she never wanted to be, and by the Ancients, she tried to not pin it back. But it was growing harder, harder where she gritted her teeth and skulked away from The Ford with an anger in her step. Down the coast, paws sunk into the water as each step was left with a large kick.

Then she ran, cursing within the wind in a series of nothing but them, fuck, shit, goddamn it, god hell, and all the variety. 

She stopped, panting as she gave a large stomp into the water, and watched the droplets speckle into the water.

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It was quiet, on the ocean’s shore.

Quiet, with the sound and motions of the water and the tides, the same actions repeated, time and time again, with endless, infinite variations.

And it was quiet, until she came along.

He huffed.

His ears pressed back, back against his head,

The water lapped and rolled at his feet. The end of his tail submerged. His legs dark, with the water.

His hackles bristled.

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Another within the distance, an asshole who could not produce a smile no matter how much she joked. An eternal frown ; a soul who knew not happiness and only but despair in the world, and she matched his own her own bristling fur. Vendrussel's tail raised in the sky as so her head, a warning that she did not want to deal with him, for a snarl emerged upon her face.

She could feel her heart beating ; a thumping, a desire of roaring and rage and yet.. She couldn't attack, not without a reason, not without a cause, not without him starting it, and she warned so. Get the fuck away from her.

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And what the fuck was her fucking problem?

All he fucking did so far was what, nothing? Nothing, but be the unfortunate fucking bastard that just happened to be there when she decided to throw a stupid fucking shitty tantrum.

Seriously, he didn’t fucking do anything. He was there first.

She was the one acting like some shitty spoiled fucking puppy who just heard the world ‘no’ for the first fucking time.

And she snarled first, but he snarled second. The black of his lips peeled back. The white of his teeth on display. His tongue pressed against the backs of his teeth.

She could start whatever shit she fucking wanted, but he would fucking end it.

He was sick of her fucking bullshit.

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Even if logic was within her mind, her emotions did not want to align. She was angry, at herself ; at others — she didn't like the judgement and how easily some would turn their backs upon her. She didn't like how some how finding herself within a war that she never started, feeling like some sort of weakling for not even being able to end it. When she thought, was the right move, only spiraled down and down to.. Now.

And she lunged at him. He didn't back down or leave her, and she didn't know who was the first in the area — Vendrussel didn't care. He hailed his hackled and lipped back into a silent snarl, a challenge, that the woman threw everything into. Reckless, in her pursuit for paws opens and jaws wide to bite, grab, hit anything that she managed to find. She wanted him down, she wanted to shake him down and she wanted to feel her own muscles burn..

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And just like he fucking expected—

She lunged.

Lunged, like the cowardly, shitty, overgrown fucking child he always knew she was and always fucking would be.

“Fuck you.” He snarled.

And he lunged.

He met her, halfway, his jaws open and parted. He felt her teeth bite. He felt the water move.

He wasn't her fucking bitch.

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She felt a cut upon her cheek, a grasping on her face as words that would like to scream and shout were hinged down. She thrashed, her head and body moving wildly for a reveal as the bite she got had left. At the point, Vendrussel was mindlessly raising her paws, slap, claw, hit and punch ; constantly moving her limbs like she was swimming on land itself.

She wanted harm ; even if it meant harming herself.

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His teeth cut skin.

His teeth found flesh, thin and delicate.

And her paw found his muzzle, his face. The short blunt claw of her foot missed his eye. Caught and clipped the bridge of his muzzle.

Fuck.

His teeth bit down, down on the tissue of his own tongue, and with his ears pinned back, his eyes pressed shut—

He lunged.

Blind.

Forward, and up.

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The tear upon her neck as he lunged wildly, and she snarled, loudly, at the sight of his eyes closing. She felt his fangs brush so and push upon her shoulder where even she felt, she was falling down into the sands itself. But not without a fight, for to be damned she was angry and she would do something. Her head thrown forward, a lunging, a biting toward his neck if anything. 

She didn't want to kill him, not truly. Vendrussel wanted to feel the rush and the anger, to fight something that was not with simple words where she felt constantly needing to defend herself and what she thought was right. At the very least here, she could simply throw him around or — she would fall onto the beach, and be the loser in this battle.

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She fell.

The big bitch tripped, slipped, and fell.

Out from the water and out onto the sand, where her teeth caught fur. Her teeth caught skin. The skin of his neck.

And he fell with her.

Grabbed, and then pulled.

He snarled.

Shook.

Shook, to dislodge her teeth from the skin of his neck.

A tangle of limbs, with him on top.

He lunged, to grab her shoulder, her side—

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She could feel her jaw strengthen around his fur, but even within the madness of a rage and sorrow she didn't have the heart to sink further in, just throw her head and wildly while trying to seem like she was ripping at anything, to tug him like a ragdoll within so. Yet she was messy, and too much to even attempt to stay within her hold as he struggled and she lost her grip ; falling, and falling.. 

A failure.

Pinned to the ground with a bite upon her shoulder, she felt her eyes blurr, not with the sea itself but from her own salted tears. A paw that was free lifted up trying to cover her eyes from this bastard, but she sobbed lightly, after pathetically losing against him and now stoned to the beach floor. 

She was a mess.

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He moved away, leaving a mess of a dragoness holding back sobbing but few moans slipped out within her disaster of a mind. A disarray within disorder, and but a stillness in waves.. His insults brought her up to her feet, sand spraying from the angry squabble upwards to the foe she just lost to, "Fuck you," Vendrussel mumbled, half yelling yet half whispering. Like she wanted to say more and knew she was in the wrong for attacking firstly.

Embarrassed, shame, piled upon her face as her paw angrily slammed to the ocean, an attempted childish spray at him before ; Vendrussel turned away, and ran. Though now she held a vendetta against — for she would return for a victory.

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