They danced, they scraped. They scuffled. Jinx was alive with it all, alight with the kind of violence that came from something so wonderful. So beautiful. So manic. Her eyes flashed, ears pinning to her skull and then flickering back up. It was a delicate dance, and one that couldn’t really be controlled. It was a dance and it was a game. In her chest, her heart pounded.
Everything about Jinx is a sing-song, from the way she speaks to the way she moves. Delicate. Strange. Strangely delicate, delicately strange. It’s violence, but it’s more than that. More than violent, but less than violent. Jinx was a strange beast, and there is so much chaos coursing beneath the surface. Surface. No, there is so little surface and so much below. She remains pressed to Nyimara’s side, a sheen of sweat rising on her coat.
She laughed. She laughed and Jinx pinned her ears to her skull. Once more, the girl lashed out, indignant. In her mind, Nyimara laughed at her. “Don’t laugh at me,” Jinx barked, aggression rising in her system. For a moment, she saw red. The words she speaks, they echo in her head. Echo… echo more. Jinx was proud where she stood on her feet. The islands demand more, and the loose canon mare has demands. She demands wealth, fame, fortune… all of it. Power. All she truly, truly wants is power. There is a burning desire that it take her over, and that it makes her whole.
Whole. She feels whole when there’s close combat like this. She feels the power in her system, and she feels alive. Yes, this is what Jinx needs. “We give them blood,” it was talk of a sacrifice. A great, wild, bloody sacrifice. Alive. Dead or alive. The islands too were alive. It does not prevent her from continuing her game with Nyimara, from reaching out with snapping teeth and strong jaws. She pushes back, but it’s in excitement. The chomping of the metaphorical bit. “Where do we go?” Jinx was ready.
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