The colosseum is rumbling with the cries of the crowd. The air is filled with an energy Tenebrae is not used to. Always his fights, his training has been a private affair. Yet here, here it has become a spectacle for the glory of Solterra. Around the arena wreathes of bronze leaves, plucked at their turning, glow like glittering rust. 


If he thought the crowd was loud to begin with, it is nothing compared to the clamour, the supportive roar that deafens him when his adversary steps out upon the sand. He gleams, oh he shines beneath his sunlight. Tenebrae watches from the shadows in the tunnel opposite. Darkness seeps in cool and sweet across his body. 


Then his name is called and the Disciple moves, out into the crowd that does not roar so loudly for him. Yet the clamour is deafening, the stands rumble the stone groaning like a great beast is rousing from its mountain of steps. Where all of Orestes is gleaming gold, a perfect messenger of the sun high above him. Tenebrae is the black, the endless swallowing pitch of a dark abyss. He brings night breathing, smothering reaching out into the glowing Colosseum. 


Orestes is just how he remembered from the brief moment they passed atop Veneror. The sand is littered with droplets of blood from previous fights and the crowd is ready for another. Yet they do not concern him as his shadow magic seethes across the sand blotting out sunlight and the pattern of the sand below his feet. 


The monk stops, his skull dipping in time with Orestes. He smiles, wicked and ready, his nerves thrum with the anticipation of battle. The dark of shadows reaches out beyond them, gathering like ebony mist about them. “Thank you for hosting so generously, your Highness.” Tenebrae murmurs as darkness strengthens. Then suddenly peeling out of the black at Orestes’ left flank, a shadow forged tiger lunges for the Day king. Tenebrae aimed for it to emerge from the king’s blind spot as he keeps their gaze locked. Anything to gain an additional moment of delay in his opponent’s parry. The black lion leaps in a fluid motion aiming for the king’s left shoulder with outstretched, slashing claws as sharp as an eagle’s talon. 


Then, Tenebrae is moving, he retreats back, enough to watch how Orestes’ avoids the lion and what, if any, strike lands. The monk waits to see if an injury might slow his opponent down, if pain from a wound atop his shoulder might make him lame, or let his kingdom see how even kings can bleed upon the sand. 

|| "Speech." || @Orestes

when is a monster not a monster?

oh, when you love it

There is so much light. It blazes bright and startling. 


First it emerges from the Sun Lion who has been watching Tenebrae carefully. The DIsciple has had two sets of eyes upon him (Orestes and his bonded), each one is able to see a clue of the monk’s attack that the other set may not have seen. Tenebrae knew it would be difficult to be unpredictable with both the Day King and his bonded watching. 


So it is that as the Sun Lion watches Tenebrae’s shadows, Orestes watches him. When Tenebrae’s shadows form into a tiger, leaping swiftly, solidly and fiercely out of the darkness, the Sun King’s lion is ready, meeting it midair. The two great cats clash in light and darkness. Their coming together is a war of day and night. Twilight bleeds from their violent meeting in purples and pinks. Light runs like blood. The cats’ teeth pierce light and darkness as they meet open jaw to open jaw. Claws slash as they grapple like dawn and dusk. Then, swiftly as the gloaming, their fight is over. Tenebrae, distracted by Orestes’ sudden advance and blinding light, feels his magic slip and his solid shadow tiger dissolves back into darkness. 


The second blaze of light has come from the Solterran king himself. Orestes thunders toward Tenebrae his skin igniting until he blazes as bright as a sun pressing down upon the Earth. The air grows hot and the sands swirl up, pulled by the energy of Orestes’ magic. The particles of dust rotate like planets around the sun of the Solterran’s magic. If the light was not bad enough, grains of the sand scatter into Tenebrae’s eyes. He grunts, surprised, and blinks the grit away, his eyes watering to rid themselves of light and dirt. 


Tenebrae has trained for battle with the monks. He is not the most advanced yet neither is he the youngest and most inexperienced. Even with sand and light in his eyes, he has noted how the king’s breeding makes him finer of bone and smaller than Tenebrae. The monk thinks he stands a good chance of weathering the brunt of his opponent’s attack since it seems to come down to force of impact born of speed and body mass. He turns away from the light, spinning swiftly, his years of training making him agile and his feet more steadfast than Orestes’ are likely to be. The warrior monk angles himself away from Orestes, coming to rest at a diagonal to the king. In this position the light of the Solterran’s magic is less direct and Tenebrae’s haunches are closer to his attacker. His defense is strongest in this position: his haunches are able to take the most force, and he is able to propel himself away after - as long as he is not too injured. 


Orestes reaches him: the advance, the blast of magic, Tenebrae’s split second judgement, for better or worse, it happens and is over so fast. Their bodies collide with a heavy thud. Orestes’ scolding sunbright shoulder crashes into cool, shadow-wreathed haunches. It is another tangle of day and night. Tenebrae staggers with the impact, side stepping, attempting to absorb the force of the impact - moving with it. His opponent’s shoulder hits the fleshy part of Tenebrae’s left haunch, where bigger stronger muscles cover his pelvis. Yet the force of two stallions colliding, despite the difference in size, is still enough to leave a bruise. The blaze from Orestes’ magic leaves a light burn upon the monk’s flesh. It could have been worse. Tenebrae twists, shifting the pain from his left haunch (where the collision occurred) to his right hindlimb. Though the damage is not severe, the bruising and burn are tender, the initial trauma causing inflammation. 


Tenebrae debates in the short moments after the collision, whether to pivot on his haunches and launch another attack to Orestes’ side - but that would involve increased weight bearing through his hind limbs. His left hip is now sore and weight bearing through a pivot will may make it more tender and the movement slower, clumsier. His other option is to kick with his hind legs whilst Orestes is already close. The blow from the king’s attack was upon Tenebrae’s hip, it has made the lateral muscles about his flank sore, yet the ones used primarily to kick out behind him are mostly down the back of his pelvis and hindlegs and they are uninjured. He decides to attack without repositioning, seizing the moment whilst Orestes is still close from his attack. Tenebrae just needs to get enough distance between him and his opponent to extend his hind limbs in the kick. He knows the force of impact will be stronger further apart than if they are closer. 


Decision made, knowing the action of kicking will be less painful than trying to turn around on his haunches, Tenebrae propels forward half a stride and kicks up, fast and hard with both hindlegs. He aims for the left side of the king’s golden throat and chest. It is the nearest, largest target as they are still close, still likely at diagonals to each other. Using both hind legs allows Tenebrae to make up for his injured left limb and its weaker strike. 


His attack made, the monk moves forward, hoping the action may have pushed Orestes back and increased the space between them. With greater space between the opponents, Tenebrae has longer to prepare a parry and more time to work out how sore his hind limb is after his attack. He turns, his left leg sore, the hip and its muscles aching. He watches the king and readies himself for a second attack.


|| "Speech." || @Orestes

when is a monster not a monster?

oh, when you love it