She arrived with adrenaline in her veins and laughter in her eyes, rosy pink lips pulled upwards in a knowing grin.

Diarmuid stood there before her amidst the dusty, trodden earth of the well-beaten circle, stationed beneath the dying embers of the evening sky like a proud sentinel and awaiting her arrival, the call of his deep summon echoing through the still air. He had summoned her, and she had come, just as they had agreed. Merely two soldiers they were, from different corners of the world, but fate had brought them together. What it held in store, Israfel was eager to discover.

"Diarmuid." The greeting was soft, reverent, respectful. One ally to another. They were not enemies here, and Israfel would not fight him as one. They were shield-siblings, sworn with the duty of protecting not only their home of Terrastella and the Dusk Court, but one another's back as well. It would be an honor to test his mettle as a shield-brother.

With an almost lazy sashay, the Daughter of the Sun stepped into the circle of tarnished earth, gilded hooves picking the path as she took note of the dips and holes that lay in waiting. It would be all too easy to trip or stumble upon such crude terrain, and Israfel knew she would need to keep focused on her opponent as well as the earth itself. It was not her ally here. She could always take to the sky and use that to her advantage, as her wings did gift her with the ability of flight, but not yet. Not today. For now, she would trade blows with Diarmuid on equal footing.

Sharp vermilion eyes drifted from a head held high, taking in the landscape around them. Veneror Peak stood proudly in all of its majesty to the north, standing witness to the oncoming spar. Behind them, to the south, churned the vast waves of the Terminus Sea. The east and west held nothing but a myriad of trees and shrubbery, obscuring the lands beyond, and neither elk, equine, or various other beast stood around to witness their brawl. For now it was just the two of them, and Israfel was completely alright with that. It would prove to be far less distracting that way.

Finally did her vibrant flaming gaze come to rest on Diarmuid, and it was he that she now assessed. There was no doubt about it that Diarmuid was build to be every inch a soldier, a knight familiar to the feel of steel and the song of battle. His physical appearance only seemed to exude that. Israfel herself was a taller stature than most females, but Diarmuid stood inches above her very own height. His height and breeding, however, she hoped to use to her advantage. Where he was thick in build with the blood of workhorses running through his veins, she was sleek and slender, her steps far lighter and quicker than his own thanks to her own mixture of stock and athlete. So long as she could remain one step ahead of him, Israfel was confident in her chances. That, and... Well.

Slowly Israfel's eyes lifted, roaming up Diarmuid's strong, muscular legs, his robust haunches, the dips and curves of a broad breast, up the tendons and muscle of his neck, to rest on his face. Or, more importantly, where his left eye, milky white and glazed with blindness, lay. The blight was turned away from where she stood, as she had approached on Diarmuid's right, not wishing to startle or alarm him. Yes. If she could somehow remain on his left side and take advantage of his blindness and deafness, then surely she, despite her own inexperience and lack of battle prowess, could stand a chance against such a seasoned veteran as the rose-grey stud.

Petite pale ears swiveled forward, and the ivory maiden's smile only grew. Her eyes danced in merriment, in excitement, in anticipation, ready for what was about to unfold. "I'll remain earth-bound. Let's test our skills on common ground. What do you say?"

Muscles coiled in preparation, taut and ready, for she was through with words. Upon her shoulders, the Sun Daughter's gilded wings stiffened and began to unfurl from against sleek sides, outstretching, but not to take flight. Instead, with a mighty shove and a mixed shout between a battle cry and a delighted laugh, Israfel lunged forward, her wings arching upwards before propelling her forward, nimble legs outstretched as she charged the distance that spanned between them at as fast a gallop as she dared.

Mid-charge, Israfel made her decision. As she was now, facing his right side should he not turn and address her head-on, she could not use Diarmuid's blindness to her advantage, and so she simply planned to rush him, and perhaps crowd him given her girth and wingspan. A few paces shy of potential collision, Israfel used her wings to assist in slowing down, the feathered appendages stretched outwards and catching resistance. As she slowed, Israfel lashed out with gnashing teeth, aiming to deliver a sharp bite to the raising swell of Diarmuid's right shoulder. Should he attempt to dodge her attack or proceed with an attack of his own, the ivory maiden hoped that her teeth would at least catch the flesh of his chest or his barrel, depending on his following move.

Through it all, the Sun Daughter smiled, vermilion eyes dancing with unparalleled thrill and joy.

Now was the time. She was the daughter of Gods and Saints, a creature of both heaven and earth, cloaked in ivory and gold and sent to walk among the mortals from the depths of the undead. Bathed in the crimson light of the dying sun, morale bolstered from the winds of change and promise, Israfel made her first strike as a warrior of Terrastella.

Are you watching, Papa? She beckoned eagerly to the dying sun, wondering if her Godly father was watching her from his place among the heavens. Could he even see her here in Novus? Were his eyes, as mighty and reverent as the rest of him, blocked by the veil between worlds?

There was a moment of immense satisfaction as her teeth latched onto rose-grey hair and flesh, the dull points of her incisors snapping shut and holding tight to the skin of Diarmuid's right shoulder in a crude, pinching chomp. The taste of sweat and a tinge of copper filled her mouth, coating her tongue, but she pushed on past the unsavory flavor. That moment of elation, of victory for something so mundane as a simple bite, however, was vastly short lived, because then, well...

Then, collision. Breathless, gasping, reeling. Israfel was not prepared, thanks to her inexperience when it came to all things battle. There was a fleeting moment of panic, of misunderstanding and confusion as her mind rapidly tried to process what had happened, before it all sank in. Diarmuid had stood his ground despite her brazen charge, and as her bite landed successfully against his shoulder, he lunged into her space, the broad, muscled expanse of his front colliding into her slighter, ivory breast. A pained, startled gasp inadvertently escaped rosy lips, sharp vermilion eyes wide and bewildered. It both ached and winded her, the shock seeming to reverberate through her very core. She heaved, trying to catch her breath. His move served its purpose, staggering the Sun Daughter where she stood, wings splayed outwards to the left and right of her trembling frame, winded and momentarily frozen. The sheer force of the collision was enough to wrench Diarmuid's flesh from between her teeth, her head knocking upwards and away from his right shoulder.

The silver knight, however, was not done. He reached out, the thick tendons in his neck straining and taut, before his teeth latched onto the curve of her crest in the middle of her neck. It did not hurt, not completely, but there was an ache to where he held her in a successful grapple, preventing her from pulling away nor attacking him once more. In agitation, her wings gave a mighty flap, gilded alabaster appendages raising before sweeping sharply downwards in an attempt to free herself.

For a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, Israfel thought to rear high into the air to wrench herself free of his hold. The thought was quick to leave her mind, sound judgement overruling blind panic. To rear upon her haunches and attempt to wrest herself free would give Diarmuid the perfect opportunity to charge forward and use his considerable bulk against her. Knocking her onto her back would be far too easy given their difference in build, and so Israfel dismissed the thought just as quickly as it had arrived. No. If she wouldn't rear, then what could she do...?

The thought came to her quite suddenly, and she realized that she needed to act before the moment was lost. Still standing intimately close to him, their chests pressed together, his teeth wrapped tight around her in a submissive hold, her head still pressed against the curve of his right shoulder, the Sun Daughter's petite ears pressed back against the poll of her skull. Back arching, gilded wings once more lifted into the air, elegant feathers full of deceptive strength raising into an arc above their heads, a halo of divine flesh and bone, before sweeping downwards and back, giving her the momentum that she so desperately needed. In time with the thrust of her wings, Israfel ducked to the side and lunged, round haunches pushing off of  the ground as she physically, and rather crudely, ripped herself free from Diarmuid's toothy hold and jumped forward to his right. She winced, a thick lock of ivory tresses ripping from her crest from the force of her leap, but she could not mourn the loss of hair. Not yet. Perhaps once, before her death, she would have lamented the loss of such fine hair, always vain over her looks, but she was not that same ignorant, materialistic youth.

No. She was a warrior. She was volatile and passionate, dangerous and carefree, an unforgiving wildfire personified. Once ignited, she could not be doused. Israfel would incinerate her course until satisfied, and while an ally, Diarmuid would know well just how deep her fires could burn.

Now free of Diarmuid's hold, poised horizontal to his right side, her head towards his muscled rump, Israfel turned her front away, pivoting to her right to avoid any kick he might think to send in her direction. Instead of fleeing and forgetting any intention on exploiting his left side, she retaliated but remained close, bracing her forelegs and kicking out backwards with both hind legs in a buck, hoping to land a hit against the silver knight's right shoulder, the same that she had already bitten.

The battle was waging. It was now, and Israfel was not ready to give up.

There was no collision with her blow. It was empty, hollow, no force rushing to meet gilded hooves at the apex of her strike. In turn, there was no satisfaction in its wake, only bitter disappointment for an opportunity missed. If this had been war or a battle to the death, such a result could prove to be her downfall. Somehow, despite his size and the upturned, hole-riddled earth below their feet, Diarmuid was capable of strafing out of range and avoiding her attack completely. He did so with the swiftness and poise of a seasoned veteran, a learned soldier familiar with tactics of the like she had just attempted. Was it a rookie move, the one she had just used? Had he been able to see her attack before she had even implemented it?

Gritting her teeth as her rear haunches landed heavily back upon the dusty earth, Israfel planned to swing around and face the rose-grey knight head on, but the choice was quickly taken from her. With a warning bellow, a deep, rumbling baritone echoing into the air from the lips of the previously silent stallion, Diarmuid retaliated at last with a grand show of force. It was the first true hostile act that he had taken against her, the bite to her crest notwithstanding, and Israfel found herself alarmed by it. Heavy muscled pulled taut with his motions, the sweat that mottled his hide standing out starkly against the natural grey of him. He was a weapon, a mighty creation bred and groomed for war, and she was his unfortunate adversary.

He reared, black hooves striking outwards like deadly knives, and the Sun Daughter found herself gawking but for a moment before desperation spurred her to act. With a less than graceful maneuver, the ivory maiden's gilded wings snapped upwards in a great unfurling motion, lifting skyward, erect and proud, and then swept downwards in a mighty arc to help her propel from the ground, but not to take flight. Dust kicked up beneath the current created from the action, and Israfel threw herself bodily to the right to avoid his strike, aided by the strength of her wings.

Diarmuid's hooves brushed against the supple curvature of her rump amidst her hastily thrown together escape. It did not hurt and felt simply like a scraping pressure, but the distance that she had managed to obtain was enough to dispel the true force of the blow. Cloven hooves scrabbled for purchase amidst the treacherous ground, the panic of her mind overriding the necessary caution she had once held at the fore front of her mind. As she found her balance, limber legs swaying and trembling from exertion, Israfel's sharp vermilion eyes turned to focus completely on Diarmuid.

The kindly knight was once again on all fours, facing her, his expression warm and welcoming and so very alive with the aftermath of adrenaline. Israfel understood. Her blood continued to pump, that steady, constant reminder that she was alive thrumming in her ears, the pale plains of her chest and barrel heaving as she attempted to catch her breath. Exertion to this degree was something that she was not yet used to, but by the Gods if she wasn't satisfied.

Rose-kissed lips twisted upwards, and once again, she laughed. It was a merry, hearty sound, innocent and sweet and so very lively. "You're right," she conceded, all smiles and joy, and with a languid stretch of her wings, she moved to approach the stallion's side, hooves once more trekking carefully atop the upturned earth. "I definitely won't be falling for that again."

There they were, two strangers tied together by the same desire to protect a singular place that they both called home. What a pair they made. She surely looked awry; sweat-soaked, gilded hair wild and mussed, a sizable chunk of her mane missing from where Diarmuid had ripped it from her crest. Ah, well. It would grow back.

"What a fight. Thank you, Diarmuid. I haven't felt so alive in a very long time." Diarmuid could not possibly know the truth to her words. Israfel went on, however, ears forward, posture relaxing, the thrum of adrenaline slowly fading, to be replaced by the aches of their tussle. "... Maybe we should be getting back to the Court before the night grows late."