Nothing is ever certain (Part 1)

Zahra & Ilham

It was pride that turned angels into devils

 
Wait…
 

Ashen lashes angled harshly down across her otherwise, now, ascending eyes. Within them manifested perceivable doubt, shock, astonishment; she almost laughed aloud. "You… ha... for a second there, I thought you said…" Across the way she glared at him with new, different heat broiling in her belly. 

 
"How dare you…"
 

There was a dangerous undertone, a brooding, blistering rage that spewed through her veins. Zahra, as she observed him (blindly), scrutinised and ravaged that shadowy, masculine mask of deception, writhed internally against a blaring urge to attack; hatred so intense, so fresh and frightening, driving her irrepressible need to lash out.

 

And she did.

 

All of the slowness and tact that delivered his crude, cruel and confronting revelation, did nothing to soothe the manic monster screaming within her. Pre-coiled and long anticipating, those thighs unleashed their tension, forcing her trembling, irrational frame forward, towards him. Feathered arms extended instinctively, flaring left and right around her like enormous, stained-glass sails - nets - exaggerating both her size and fury; so too did the crest arch brazenly between shoulders and skull, wielding the furious façade at the top like a riled snake.

 

The exterior was nothing but savage.

 

Mud splashed about her wildly, like a frenzy of rain reversed, and the thunder of her sprinting hooves across the slippery sod resonated high into the murky atmosphere; the confused, conflicted creature cared little who the victor would be. Teeth unsheathed from the snapping ivories beneath, and the soft bridge of her sooty black maw creased awfully under the flux of exploding aggression.

 
How could he? As if the burning pain of loss and guilt wasn't crippling enough...

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