i opened my mouth and the night poured in-
Dust mottles the air around them, settles on their skin in a fine white film; Marisol has to choke down the immediate cough that threatens her as she inhales it, making her lungs burn until they throb in her chest, as loud and painful as her accelerated heartbeat. The smog of swirling dirt and the blackness brought on by the ache in her wing make it hard to see, but Mari narrows her gaze and steels her focus, as stubborn as ever.
Her teeth finally find purchase on Theo’s pale skin. There is the familiar satisfaction of biting deep, knowing her attack has hit its mark - and even when the overwhelming taste of iron floods her tongue, so thick and visceral it’s almost nauseating, satisfaction comes along with it. It thrills in her chest like an electric impulse. Tearing away skin and hair, Mari hears the cadet’s squeal of pain and revels in it, feral and violent as ever in the heat of battle.
Finally she lets her bite loosen and swivels away, side-stepping at a furious pace to increase the distance between them. Both of them are on the warpath now - wolf girls fueled only by a need to win - and Mari is not dumb enough to ignore the possibility of another attack. instead, her forces herself to remain on high alert, stone gaze flickering watchfully, nerves prickling under her skin, hooves dug into the soil and shoulders squared to keep her balance. Despite the adrenaline flooding her veins, the intensity of being caught in the middle of a battle, Marisol is still and collected. She is willfully statuesque. She is a soldier and nothing else -
That is all she knows.
That overwhelming part of her, the soldier, recognizes Theodosia’s attack before it even really comes. The way she skips a step in the dirt, turning a tight circle to face the Commander again. Her strides extend, almost like she’s about to fly - fast as a stone skipping water and just as furious, the distance between them closes in milliseconds. But quick as ever, Marisol finds her footing and ducks forward, scraping away from Theo with liquid grace so that the younger mare’s shoulder only bumps her flank, escaping with the smallest of stumbles.
The world comes into focus around her - dust, sunlight, ichor and salt. It is all too real against the just-gone blur of their battle. Heaving for breath, bloodied and bruised, Mari finally scrapes to a stop. Her muscles shake, sweat froths silver against her dark skin, her breath burns inside her chest, but still satisfaction glimmers deep in her gray eyes, and when she raises her chin to appraise Theodosia, her expression is marked by a tightly wound but genuine smile.