Wrathsome? Probably, honestly. Wrath was something that could fill you up, after all. It could fill you up and seep from the inside out. Loathsome? Sure, really. She was easy to dislike, filled with electricity and anarchy to the core. Violent? To a fault. Violence ran hot in her blood, and deep in her veins. It was something that made her feel, and feel in the best (and worst) ways. Jinx allowed the feeling to flood her system. It was a whole, more than the sum of its parts.
And she was more than the sum of her parts as well. More than any pound of flesh or ounce of bone would allow for herself. Heart thrumming in her chest. Hooves echoing the same beat across the ground. This place was so incredibly and immensely strange, and already, it felt like a cage. The anarchist felt her head spinning. Too much-- too loud. Thoughts too loud. A certain thirst for blood, but was it really blood? No. The thirst, instead, was for chaos. It was for chaos. Chaos, you see, was something alive. Chaos made Jinx feel alive. She needed it. Thrived on it.
Without it, she was… hm. Was hollow the right word? Maybe. Maybe it was something worse. Maybe it was something far worse than that. She could feel it bubbling and burning in her stomach. Bile burning at the back of her throat. Jinx was raw. She was so immensely and incredibly raw. Unsettled. Starved. Something akin to a caged animal, and yet. Caged birds sang, but Jaws would not. No, Jaws would not sing. The flesh and bone that bound her soul was a prison, and within it she would rot-- not sing.
As the sun started to threaten the horizon, the mare did not steady herself. Jinx was near manic, and likely a danger to herself more than anyone else. Gods help whoever dared near the anarchist. It was all a roll of the dice how she’d react. A test of fate. Jinx couldn’t handle herself, and it was beyond her how anyone else could or would dare to. Twilight would set in soon. Wild.
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