Her teeth are bared and glistening with venom. There is a low, continuous growl that rumbles deep from her chest and reverberates around them; birds are smart enough to know to flee, startled wings the only sound other than the unbroken warning that rests at the back of Esme's throat.
She circles the blonde, rage painting everything red. Rage that brings the other vampire to his knees— rage that hurts, but Esme wants to feel the way her teeth sink into his flesh, the release of a limb from a body. She wants to see him expect an easy opponent before he's engulfed in flames.
The words are choked at her feet. For a moment she feels victorious. All the pain that has spent a century underneath the surface, the agony of recent days, finally has some use. She doesn't understand it, but her anguish hones in on it and the way it's crumpled her opponent.
And yet, just as she's about to enjoy herself, Esme feels the piercing agony in her chest. It winds her, knocking her to her knees with a louder, more primal growl. Fingernails curl into mud, and she can't help but scream. The birds that remain abandon their branches as leaves rustle urgently in reply to their exit.
With a surge aided only by frustration, Esme grabs the blonde by his throat and flips him so his back is against the forest floor. The pain invading her limbs only gets worse, forcing her muscles to clench and her head to throb. It's akin to Jane, but accompanied by the voice of Charles, of Aro— the image of Carlisle's severed head.
Another scream follows, fingers tightening around the throat in her grip. "I'll show you exactly who I am," she snarls through gritted teeth, venom dripping from exposed canines, "I'll show all of you."
