A I S L I N N
some people are born with tornadoes in their lives, but constellations in their eyes.
other people are born with stars at their feet,
but their souls are lost at sea.
- nikita gill
A groan ripped from her throat, the entire weight of her body aimed into her opponent like a meteor crashing into the earth. The stormsinger was a flurry of rage and satisfaction, her final assault landing true as she rammed into the brute's rear end. He buckled underneath the onslaught, the fae tucking her wings in close as her momentum threw her body into a roll. She crashed into the plateau, landing heavily on her damaged wing. Releasing a strangled cry, she ducked, tucking her legs underneath her as she rolled to her right side and heaved herself up to stand.
A shudder rippled across her skin, Aislinn's lithe frame standing perpendicular to the stallion's. Her muscles tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, the thick adrenaline coursing through her blood fading away. The sharp sting from the gash on her wing came with a full force, blood trailing down her feathers and staining them scarlet. Only then did she notice a handful of her plumes had been ripped out, a spoil of battle for her opponent. She certainly would not be able to soar under the stars anytime soon.
The dark mare cracked her neck, azure orbs flicking upwards to finally get a good look at the stallion who had answered her silent call. Curiosity had her staring, Aislinn's gaze on the mysterious — and rather beautiful — hound that nuzzled up to him. He was strong, handsome even, and someone completely unknown to her. She desired to know the face beneath his armor, equal bits of wanting and respect filling her. A warrior unafraid to enter a spar, and one who certainly could hold his own.
A single word passed his lips — his name, she realized — as he and the hound turned to face her. Rostislav. Tucking the name of the warrior into a pocket in her mind, she smiled softly. From one soldier to another, she dipped her crown in return. Her lips parted in a whisper, the fae's body beginning to spin away and melt into the shadows.
"Aislinn," she sighed, and like a wraith, the night-blessed mare was gone.
I'm sorry for the shortness D:
Summary: Aislinn recovers from her final attack, looking to Rostislav and Damaris will newfound respect for a fellow warrior. She tells him her name before vanishing into the night.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 1
Block(s) Left: 0
Item(s) Used: None!
Response Deadline: None!
Tags: @Rostislav @
