IT'S SO HARD TO GET MY BLOOD TO SETTLE DOWN
Traveling with Raymond was almost painful to Toro; he'd been set off at the beginning of the journey and the irritation grew like a very ugly pearl in the mouth of a very angry oyster. To say he was emotional was an understatement, it was easy to tell that about Toro, and in being largely consumed by this anger he paid little attention to anything besides the red stallion. He spent a majority of the time looking at Raymond out of the corner of his eye, watching his sinuous form pace along from day to day. The chill in the air grew, and if he did not wake up seething it provided him with a few moments of shivering and internalized complaints before he remembered who he was with. All the while they walked, Toro became an increasingly taut string, muscles pulling his chest apart, heat rising to his face and pounding blood in his skull. He was a ball of rubber bands, and by the time they reached the arena, he was ready to snap each and every one.
The air was cool but not cold, the sun risen but not high, sky cloudy but not overcast. Ground was dry and hard beneath his hooves, his skin pulsed fire and he imagined every step cracking the parched soil open. His mind danced along doing the same to Raymond's skull, but bounced off it just as easily. It wasn't in him to murder, even when he felt like man set alight.
His skin prickled. His movements jerked here and there, like he was trying to scratch an itch without touching it. It only served to worsen his mood. Raymond stopped. Toro's eye jumped sideways, burning opal, nearly twitching with anticipation. Raymond nodded. In a swift, singular motion, Toro launched himself from the ground, twisting his body to the left, head bowed just enough to see his target and utilize the width of his horns. When he felt in range he gave that characteristic upward wrench of a fighting bull's head, aiming the tip of his left horn at Raymond's shoulder in an attempt to gore. It was a bit awkward, dipping down so low, but Toro was hardly the shortest fighter in his homeland, and he didn't expect he would be such here. The sentiment about tilted ground had dissipated over the last few days; his horns were Plan A now. His "honor" had boiled off with the water, a forgotten pot of salt burning a hole through the bottom. Toro's focus was entirely on his movement and Raymond's, but attention to the environment had fallen away. No thought was given to Raymond's blade. He'd be lucky not to suffer its edge.
"What I say,"
What I think,
Summary: As soon as Raymond nods, Toro launches himself at Raymond, twisting his body in order to aim his horns at Raymond's right shoulder. When he feels in range of Raymond's shoulder, he wrenches his head upward to drive his horn deeper into Raymond's flesh.
Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 1
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: None
Response Deadline: 7/19/18
Tags: @Raymond, @
