The hit is lackluster. Noam realizes the thing inside of him craves for more. For broken ribs and open sinew. For a cry to betray the executioner as mortal, and disrobe him into his base instincts. Dismantle the rumors, and bare witness to what lay beneath calculation and training. Even if it’s for a moment, a lapse or slip - Noam yearns to grasp for some sort of similarity. Though the dance will be swift, and time might yield to momentary pauses - he begins to feel this desire flush inside him. Like a hard liquor, raw and familiar, bursting with heat and venom into his veins.
Noam cannot escape the teeth that sink and scrape along the left outer aspect of his thigh and buttox. Nor the pain that unravels from peeled skin. Nostrils flare - inhaling the earth that spins off their feet, determined to pull his flesh away. The sparrow sustains a deeper cut the length of four centimeters long. Drawing first blood, as he pulls his hindlimbs underneath him, sweeping beyond El Rey’s disjointed coughs. Carrying his momentum ahead and attempting to break their immediate vicinity.
Space is created once more, like the expansion of metal as it’s heated under the kiln. Facing his opponent in beat with an inevitable return. Without pause Noam springs towards his opponent. As the dust filters through the air - a shadow is clearly outlined in the stark light. Black as Delumine on the coldest winter nights awaits him. Skies filled with the smoke of warfare burning men, burning villages and blotting out their distant stars.
He thinks of the war and the pile of bodies beneath him - he thinks of the enemy, steadfast and approaching with impenetrable lines. He thinks of the other children, little lions starved for the feast. Noam bites his tongue, resisting the urge to roar Solis’ name against the void, wings spread and beating as he jumps into the air. Forelimbs pull up with him like a battering ram - gaining flight for just a small, modest second - one, two strokes of the feather. Before driving his forelimbs down towards the beast’s poll.
The measure is extreme, less calculated - brash perchance, underneath the heightened hum of the audience. Perhaps with such a move, Noam can implore the same from El Rey. Beseech the extreme violence, recoiling with every muscle and inhaled deep within the devil, to lash out with less restrain and measure.
The altar has suddenly become an invitation.
Summary: El Rey's bite makes contact, and breaks skin. Goes deeper into the flesh, as Noam pulls ahead from him. Causing blood to flow. Noam creates some space, turns to face El Rey. Tries to put some space between them, before turning and running after. Tries to gain some elevation with his wings and jumps. Aims to land with his feet aimed at El-Rey's pole.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used:
Response Deadline: July 1
Tags: @El Rey, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @
