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p a v e t t a - - -
Perhaps Pavetta ought to reconsider her drinking habits.
Short of murdering someone, she was game for just about any “activities” when under the influence of whatever contents those sparkly goblets held. Acton, Raymond…the mysterious men she met at extravagant evening festivals was really starting to add up. But who’s counting? She was freshly widowed and eager to explore the wide world, the possibilities—to find who she might really be in Novus without the expectations of the past dragging her down into the deep.
And here she was, on the Steppes of battle, her blood just as hot without drink poisoning her veins. The green summer grazing on the way had rejuvenated her body and the two day walk made her feel conditioned and strong.
Did she question her judgement? Practically challenging a devil with a blade on his tail? Certainly. But her late husband had not admired her for her wise judgment; he had loved her fury, her wrath, the nature of an unpredictable storm in her heart. And so she cast out her judgement, her logic. Adrenaline, instinct, desire. Primal. Simple. Wild.
“I’m certain.” She squared her shoulders, pawed the turf, noting the even ground, the sandy soil beneath her hooves. Slick. She would need to be careful, but how careful? Pavetta had never been one for caution or restraint. Already it was difficult for her to hold back, to plan. She merely wanted to rip and tear, desired the taste of metallic blood on her tongue for it had been too long since her last battle. She had been alone, in the swamp, a monster on her trail…
Survive.
Those are what her instincts told her, and that is what she had always done. This training session would be no different if she treated it as though she was back in that swamp in the Rift, alone, hunted…prey.
But this time she would be the predator.
Pavetta charged with the wind in her face and sand spewing behind her hooves as she pounded against the earth towards her opponent. She did not plan, did not think, she could only act. She didn’t rate her speed; she flew. Foolish perhaps, but she couldn’t contain the storm in her lungs, the tornado in her hooves. Head arched and lowered slightly to her right, ears pinned flat against her skull, she fully intended to barrel into him, her left shoulder against his left.
And then she remembered the blade on his tail and the range it might travel. At the last possible second—whimsical as the wind in her hair—she spooked right, stumbling slightly in the sandy footing, but sending her hindquarters and sharp cloven hooves flinging towards his ribs in a last second buck, a slash of pure elation, of euphoria—
I am free.
She may not look a warrior, or even battle like one, but she felt like one.
a pearl in pigshit, a diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse,
creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman ---
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Summary: Pavetta confirms challenge and doesn’t waste any time getting down to business. She charges in a full out gallop, feigning to barrel into his left shoulder with hers before lunging right and swinging her hindquarters in a bucking kick towards Raymond’s ribs. :)
Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: None
Response Deadline: 6/2
Tags: @ Raymond, @ kay, @Sid, @ inkbone, @Lauren, @ Sparrow
05-30-2018, 10:32 PM
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