[Judged] lost shores and reveries

[Marisol]

i opened my mouth and the night poured in-

Earlier that morning, Marisol had paused at a creek winding through the Susurro Fields to watch her own reflection in the calm, silver waters, as if anything might’ve changed since the last time she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, a pond, some strangely polished glass.

Of course it hadn’t. When she’d glanced down at the water, what looked back at her was the same hard-lined face she’d seen since she was a child: dark as pitch, flecked with tiny silver scars. The same gray eyes, sharp and almost unnaturally piercing, even when warped by brief, infinitesimal ripples in the surface of the stream. The same bristling, close-cropped mane she’d worn since adolescence. It was deeply unsettling, to see that for all her efforts to change over the past years, she hadn’t changed at all outwardly, and that aged reflection sucked her in for much longer than she’d expected, until the purples of the dawn had faded into pink, then day-blue; it was only when the sun began to warm her back that, mildly surprised by how much time had passed since she left the Court at dawn, Marisol had shaken a fine layer of pollen from her feathers, readjusted the stripes on her wings, and again set in motion on her trek to the Steppe. 

Now the sun is high in the sky, shedding noon-bright rays, and Marisol climbs the slope to the Steppe with peaceable confidence. It is a path she has walked many times before, one that is traversed now with the  sort of easy, exact steps one can walk only with experience on their side. Dust flares around her in translucent clouds. Pebbles tumble down the side of the Steppe as she picks her way upward. Moments later, she catches sight of Theodosia, a slender silhouette backlit by the overhead sun, and amusement flutters through the Commander’s chest as she wonders just how long the Cadet has been waiting.

Just ahead stands Theodosia, facing away from her. Her stance is tense, obviously prepared, but she is listening forward, not behind, and that is her mistake. Quiet, nimble, moving with an almost catlike grace, Marisol leaps up the very last bit of the slope onto the flat expanse of the Steppe, digs her heels into the dirt, and tears off toward the girl at full speed. That furious pace closes the distance between them within seconds, and as Mari rockets toward her, she angles her trajectory but doesn’t slow, aiming to crash her shoulder (and the full weight of her body) against Theodosia’s ribs in an effort to throw her off balance and into the soft dirt.

The sun beats down from overhead, and before they even collide, Marisol can feel her heart rate pick up, her pulse flare loudly under her skin, her nerves start to buzz. It’s a feeling she knows well - a feeling she might even love. 

@Theodosia

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Summary: Marisol enters the Steppe at Theodosia's back, then rushes her from behind, aiming to ram her shoulder into Theo's side and throw her off balance.

Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0 
Block(s) Left: 1 
Item(s) Used: n/a

Response Deadline:7/2/18
Tags: @Theodosia, @kay, @Sid, @inkbone, @Lauren, @Sparrow