☼ s e r a p h i n a ☼
and I see fire
blood in the breeze
He shifted before her hooves could make impact, and she found herself assailing his shoulder in the place of his chest. She winced, inadvertently and near-imperceptibly, when she made contact; it went against her nature to take any joy from the vicious dance of combat, least of all in such a painful time, and least of all against a friend. (She didn’t notice that she thought of him as one, at the time, but it would come back to haunt her later. It was in Seraphina’s nature to systematically strip attachment away and burn it to the ground, because attachment would always be a vulnerability, or so she had always been told. She didn’t want to, though. Even with the wound of Avdotya’s betrayal fresh and stinging, Seraphina wanted to have faith in her people.) She consoled herself in the knowledge that she had hit him on the right shoulder, rather than the left. Bruises and scratches were a near-inevitable product of any spar. It would only have been a problem, she told herself, if she had hit an injury. This much she was already prepared for.
(Somehow, in the wake of so much death and violence, even bruising seemed like an ugly and sickening violation, and it made her head spin. She thought of all the Davke she killed in the attack, and she thought of the stragglers that she systematically hunted and slaughtered afterwards, the brave few that didn’t flee the city with the rest. She didn’t regret killing them. She even thought that it was necessary.)
(She found no pleasure in the crunch of her hooves against their breaking bones, however. She found no pleasure in the hot, sticky coat of blood that clung to her fur like an ugly, ugly mantle. She had never felt like that before; it had never mattered before. Why did it matter now?)
Before her hooves had even hit the ground, Eik had risen up, slamming the shoulder that she had just hit into her chest and throwing her off balance; she stumbled back, a throbbing pain blossoming out from the point of impact, and struggled to make sure that she landed evenly. (She didn’t want to sprain another ankle in a spar.) As her hooves hit the ground, Eik snapped out at her neck in a manner that was almost playful. Her ears flattened against her skull, and she whipped her head forward, snapping back at him with a hint of wolfish mischief in turn. It still didn’t feel safe to breathe, she thought, and that was probably what Avdotya intended. However, some small, frightened part of her knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that, if she let this attack render her to something skittish and passive and traumatized into submission, she would fail her people again.
The bruise bled across her chest.
She snapped forward, then, lunging at him; it seemed at first that she intended to go for his throat, but, at the last moment, she swerved, aiming instead to grab his mane in her jaws and throw him off balance. If she managed to knock him unsteady, she would use the time it bought her to dart alongside him, halting only when she felt satisfied to dig her teeth into his flank.
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notes | no worries, lovely <3
and I see fire
blood in the breeze
He shifted before her hooves could make impact, and she found herself assailing his shoulder in the place of his chest. She winced, inadvertently and near-imperceptibly, when she made contact; it went against her nature to take any joy from the vicious dance of combat, least of all in such a painful time, and least of all against a friend. (She didn’t notice that she thought of him as one, at the time, but it would come back to haunt her later. It was in Seraphina’s nature to systematically strip attachment away and burn it to the ground, because attachment would always be a vulnerability, or so she had always been told. She didn’t want to, though. Even with the wound of Avdotya’s betrayal fresh and stinging, Seraphina wanted to have faith in her people.) She consoled herself in the knowledge that she had hit him on the right shoulder, rather than the left. Bruises and scratches were a near-inevitable product of any spar. It would only have been a problem, she told herself, if she had hit an injury. This much she was already prepared for.
(Somehow, in the wake of so much death and violence, even bruising seemed like an ugly and sickening violation, and it made her head spin. She thought of all the Davke she killed in the attack, and she thought of the stragglers that she systematically hunted and slaughtered afterwards, the brave few that didn’t flee the city with the rest. She didn’t regret killing them. She even thought that it was necessary.)
(She found no pleasure in the crunch of her hooves against their breaking bones, however. She found no pleasure in the hot, sticky coat of blood that clung to her fur like an ugly, ugly mantle. She had never felt like that before; it had never mattered before. Why did it matter now?)
Before her hooves had even hit the ground, Eik had risen up, slamming the shoulder that she had just hit into her chest and throwing her off balance; she stumbled back, a throbbing pain blossoming out from the point of impact, and struggled to make sure that she landed evenly. (She didn’t want to sprain another ankle in a spar.) As her hooves hit the ground, Eik snapped out at her neck in a manner that was almost playful. Her ears flattened against her skull, and she whipped her head forward, snapping back at him with a hint of wolfish mischief in turn. It still didn’t feel safe to breathe, she thought, and that was probably what Avdotya intended. However, some small, frightened part of her knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that, if she let this attack render her to something skittish and passive and traumatized into submission, she would fail her people again.
The bruise bled across her chest.
She snapped forward, then, lunging at him; it seemed at first that she intended to go for his throat, but, at the last moment, she swerved, aiming instead to grab his mane in her jaws and throw him off balance. If she managed to knock him unsteady, she would use the time it bought her to dart alongside him, halting only when she felt satisfied to dig her teeth into his flank.
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notes | no worries, lovely <3
Summary: Sera takes his shoulder right to the chest and is knocked off balance momentarily; she's bruised, but she manages to avoid hurting an ankle, unlike her last spar. She tries to grab his mane and pull him off balance, and use the time that gives her to move to his side and bite his flank. She also angsts a lot.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: n/a
Response Deadline: 5/14 or whenever
Tags: @
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
