Arialla gasped, shuddered, tried to struggle in the figure's grip, but to no avail. She wanted to fight back; in her mind, she could feel her eagle's claws tearing into flesh, making her attacker regret this apparently random choice. If she could just get them to back off -- get some space -- maybe she could even take wing and leave this entire issue behind.
But she couldn't. She couldn't move; she didn't even manage to look at her attacker. Just twitching, paralyzed, helpless, like some small and pathetic animal. That was, truly, all she was at the moment: a worthless body. Meat.
The wall felt shockingly rough against Arialla's face, though a distant part of her marveled that she even felt it; she should have been a little distracted right now. When her attacker tore her shirt, she inhaled sharply, fearing that she recognized the nature of this attack -- she was wrong, but what happened next was hardly any better. She was already in pain, from the shock, but the pain that blossomed through her now felt different, a ripping and tearing at her throat, certainly not a gentle pinprick. For a moment she thought her attacker had torn her throat open; she thought she would bleed out and die. And was she wrong?
please don't take my sunshine away
