@misvos >> [ bleed ] your muse making mine bleed.
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⠀⠀⠀the cold give of mud is what greets karuda after the hard drive of a lance had driven true to the brace of armor. his steed gives an agitated snort close by. all his eyes see are the skies above. tasting copper on his tongue where the lance had ricochet from the armor and pierced his lip. rolling with a grunt to right himself back and onto two stanced feet. chest driving with each breath. tossing droplets of blood as spittle. a ragged tear splitting the corner of his mouth. leaving it to bleed and drip down his chin.
⠀⠀⠀what comes is not anger. staring down the line of hoof trodden mud to where his opponent still sits victorious upon their horse. not another hulking beast, but a young targaryen prince, if his memory did not betray him. valarr, yes, the name pops up with giddy reprieve. karuda's mouth pulls into a wicked smile even as the expression pulls the cut into an uncomfortable position. teeth stained orange with crimson that he spits down into the mud. the crowd holds their cheers, as if they fear karuda will turn on them.
⠀⠀⠀instead he looks to the watchers as if they are idiots. their cautious prancing around his presence has always been an annoyance. regarding them with that raspen growl. “ has he not won? cheer you fuckin' mongrels! ” the crowd lulls, and finally erupts as if given permission. the bandit huffs, eyes turning back to valarr with an equal respect.
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