Pain. The screams of agony as the life slipped away from their eyes turned to the heavens as they prayed for salvation, only to be embraced by the cold, dark abyss. The metallic taste of blood ripped from the flesh as the sound of bones cracking greeted hungry audits... These were the few things that would perhaps be the closest to that petty little thing called happiness that the white winged beast could come. The fear in the eyes of his victims so swiftly struck down and left for dead in his wake as slowly the body count climbed ever higher... How he reveled in the pure and innocent blood that his obsidians had spilled out of his twisted sense of delight and satisfaction that left many reeling in panic as they fled from him, only to be caught by the ice and the snow. There were many ways that he relished in the pleasures of a kill, although perhaps his favorite pastime was freezing his prey alive. There was something about that fear of knowing there was no escape, something in the tear filled pleas for mercy with what little air their lungs were able to draw and expel as ice began to grip their body and their blood began to congeal... To watch the life fade and now that death was slow and cruel and ruthless as they lived their very last moments in the most unimaginable amount of pain before at last they found sanctuary in the dark arms of the afterlife... These were the things that filled his dark, warped fantasies. And the ways that he could hunt them down, were delightfully endless.

Ah, but sometimes the snow king enjoyed watching the nightmares come alive in the eyes of his victims, could not help the wicked sense of pride as they lived their each and every day never knowing if he was watching them from the shadows, waiting for his next opportunity to enforce pain and suffering upon their mortal lives once more. Only rarely did Maverick relish in letting them live, watching them run until they could run no more. Let them see another day. Let them watch another sunrise. One day, when the sun went down and the shadows came out to play, he would be there and there would be no escape. Tonight, on this moonless evening beneath the starry sky with the biting cold of the air growing ever stronger with his presence, things would be different. No life would be claimed by the ice and the cold.... Not yet. There was much delight to be taken in the fear that he was about to reign down upon the forest mare yet, much pleasure to be had when the pangare warlord found out what had happened on this night. After he was done with her, she might just be begging him to end her pathetic and meager existence. That would be counter productive to what it was he had planned for her though, and so he would deny her that last dying wish.

Cold hazel eyes are quick to find her, the chocolate of her skin peeking from between the bodies of the trees as they almost seemed to try and hide her on this fateful night. To no avail. Her movements were slow and sluggish as she moved ever further into the shadows of the forest so oblivious to his presence, the air about her distraction and in some far off realm that only she could walk in. He felt his wolfish grin, wicked and lustful, grow and twist into something only ever thought to exist in nightmares as he feels the thirst rise and the hunger drive him forward. He waits until she draws nearer.... ever nearer... Chiseled muscle coil and tense beneath his scarred skin, hazel depths glittering with lethal intentions when finally, just as she passes his hiding place from amidst the darkest of shadows, the moment is before him and he seizes it as the winter would surely seize the mortal world, they release their tension and propel him forward. It was in the same moment that his forelimbs left the earth that the frost, once seemingly harmless came to life in what could only have been seconds, her path is blocked as he summons forth the ice. It claims the trees that stood on either side of the trail that stretched out before her, and as it claims the trees, pointed spears explode from the trunks and reach out towards the other as they formed a jagged barrier of ice sharp enough to cut flesh like daggers. Like a wildfire, the trees around follow suite, becoming conjoined by atypical points as they cut off all escape routes. There is now wicked laughter, no triumphant bugle that falls from his maw as he is upon her from behind with large wings unfurl half-mast from his sides, though careful not to let the jagged ice snag at his flesh. He wastes no time in snide words as he aligns himself with her smaller frame, caring not to drink in her appearance with the same wild thirst that most stallions might. He brings his weight upon her with power, so close to her in so little time that if she had kicked out it was likely that he would not feel it, the force not enough to truly hurt her but enough to make his presence known. Strong forelimbs drape themselves fiercely on either side, uncaring to see if perhaps his daggers cut her flesh. Any bruises are cuts she gained from this would only be an added bonus. He snakes his head forward with teeth bared as they look to find purchase on her withers or perhaps even the base of her mane to hold her steady, his cold skin likely sapping what little warmth she felt. As he breathed against her skin, frost claimed her as he forced himself within her all but gently. Again and again he thrusts as he ravages her, fierce and without tenderness as he took from her what it was he wanted, wings enfolding her. Would she scream out for help?

He spares her no words, even after the deed was done, the crime committed, and he slides from her back with utmost satisfaction. Whether a child burst from her loins, it did not matter. He had made his point here tonight. The jagged Spears that had trapped her dissolve as he folds his wings loosely to his sides. Whatever retaliation she had would do her no good. His wicked smile, cold and cruel, etched itself across his pale labrums. He stands before her now, maliciously pleased and almost hoping that she would strike out, give him a reason to spill her blood across the frosted forest floor.

Consider this a message. Maverick was here, and not even the likes of Rhaego could stop him.

Maverick
Stallion
10 years
Camarillo White Horse .x. Thoroughbred
Pure and true white, hazel eyes
ee/aa/W4kit/Dd/oo
White feathered wings
Ice Elemental/Flight
Homeless
No Love


[Photo Copyright-Vandy2014]