Desreal: eye for an eye; mostly for cheveyo

The sound of electricity burning it’s way through water can be a frightening one at best, the curdling hiss-sizzle-pop it makes as lightning surges through it like ripping paper sends the fine hairs straight up in Choke’s sensitive ears. Warning, warning, the conscious says. Something nefarious is coming our way, it says to the stallion which ultimately causes more water to bleed from every pore on his body. It is a strange sensation, how the static in the air makes everything thick and muggy feeling even though the humidity is down and rain is far from happening. He breathes and it feels like cobwebs in his lungs and instantly, the black in his vision becomes a darkness he cannot bear because not only can he see it but he can feel it now too.

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As Corrigan nears Choke in the glade, completely unsuspecting of the stallion’s relations to him, the electricity manifests itself in each coarse piece of hair and surges along his body (visibly) like an electrode just waiting to be touched. It can feel the water before Corrigan does, It can taste it’s weakness, how it bends and twists and writhes underneath the influence of lightning as he draws near. It only takes a minute (or two) for Corrigan to realize the difference between them, that Choke is – in a sense – weaker than him.

“Grandfather,” The stallion regards quietly.

“Yes.” But Choke doesn’t seem very happy about meeting the grown colt. He usually smiles, Corrigan thinks to himself. He is usually a nice guy, and then he wonders why of all the times he has ever met with his grandfather that now he suddenly so different.

Is it Nyota? Has her absence done this to him?

“Hardly,” Choke says, his voice not his usual tone now as he takes a step forward. It appears as though he has answered a thought of Corrigan’s but the child knows better, he knows that his grandfather is a spy and not an oracle. The thought of how close Choke is to the truth shakes him visibly, so much so, even Choke can feel the chill that radiates like electricity through the child’s skin.

“Your fear intrigues me.”

And the darkness settles before Corrigan, eyeing him expertly. Is he really truly blind?

Corrigan, Lacuna, he steps back despite the fact that every fiber of his being is charged and ready to protect himself. There is just something a little too eerie about Choke when his intentions are no good.

“What has gotten into you?” Corrigan dares to ask, his voice holding a slight quiver to it.

Choke smiles and rolls a shoulder, taking one prowling step after the other, enjoying the fear he draws out of Corrigan. One feather at a time.

“You’ve been a greedy and selfish boy with your life.” Choke, God, intends to remind Corrigan what happens to those who hurt because they can and for no reason really. What happens after he says this is lightning quick despite the repercussions that water has against lighting. Choke, old and feeble looking Choke, strikes with all the velocity and speed of a pit viper, his teeth snagging an ear and giving a sadistic tug to it. The skin is thick, so thick, but it doesn’t matter when Choke wrenches to the side to rend the skin between his teeth. It doesn’t tear like tissue paper but it does rip and there is pain, white hot pain as Choke bites him with all the intent to take something from Corrigan and to never give it back.

“Eye for an eye.” He all but hisses, his eyes a poisonous dose of absinthe green as he steps forward and presses into Corrigan, the child’s left shoulder meeting with Choke’s right and the sparks and sizzling heat flares as electricity tastes water like it’s wanted to do for quite some time. Corrigan can feel the numbing sensation working to his disadvantage as his element buzzes and hums and thrives off of the water and numbs the nerves. “Stop! Stop! What have I done!” He cries, a searing heat surging through his shoulder as the stallion pushes heavily against him and floods until the air is thick with static charge. “You have not learned yet!” Choke snarls, biting again and again, Corrigan is overwhelmed that he doesn’t know what to say or what to do as teeth come at him and feet bash up against him. It is a brief but bloody collision between the two black stallions until a spray of blood stains the sky for but a moment. It stops then and Corrigan simply stands with his head hung low, blood streaming from the missing piece that has – indeed – been taken.

Choke’s mouth is stained with blood and flocked in hair that isn’t his own, the air is sticky and metallic tasting. He is sated, or so it would seem, and the stallion let’s go of the boy’s bloody piece of ear. “Now you know.” His voice husky, his eyes still burning angrily as they remain focused on the child. “Now you truly know what pain is, you selfish, selfish little child.”

And for once, Corrigan has nothing to say for himself.

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