only after disaster can we be resurrected
it's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything
For ten years, he rotted.
For ten years, his body lay dormant beneath Solterra’s endless sands.
For ten years, a lifetime’s worth of training could not save him from the alcoves of his own personal hell. An eternity.
Zayir knows his fair share of rage.
And when Zayir had found his way from the catacombs, still young, with an entire different life ahead of him?
The thing he has wanted more than anything else?
It is not ambrosia; not water. It is not the sweet Solterran figs or the shade of the oasis palms. It is not even Cairo and those flitting, irresistible eyes. No. What Zayir wants is so much less complicated; it is base; primal.
Zayir wants to make something bleed.
That is why there is no further courtesy; only their sudden, brutal engagement. The sound Andras makes (the shattering shriek; a laughter that strikes Zayir like a lash) is one the Arete feels; pain and joy.
The two have always been inseparable, for the soldier. He has learned Solis will not give him one without the other and he cannot help the way, in the back of his throat, he too is laughing. There is sand shifting beneath him and they are both being wrenched to the ground. There is the thought that if he were anything but what he was, the texture of feathers and flesh beneath his teeth would mean something else entirely. Before he can think more or delve deeper into the violence, Andras releases a strange, concussive blast. Zayir’s head swims with the pain of the noise and the brightness and, involuntarily, he releases his grasp on the other man’s wing, pulling back. His ears are ringing, ringing, ringing.
The pain is the first real thing he has felt, it seems, since emerging from the catacombs. Perhaps Zayir will have to thank the black stallion for that, later; but not now; not when he still wants flesh between his teeth and something cracking under the pressure of his hooves. Zayir has flinched away, taking the concussion and brightness to the face and a glancing blow from Andras’s hoof. It splits the skin of his nose and sends red blood cascading down half his face.
But he has not even regained his vision when he is charging forward a second time. Zayir is rearing before he can even think better, aiming blindly to come down atop Andras with the full might of his weight and thrashing hooves. But then he can see again; then he can aim. And Zayir's rear becomes intentional; that downward crash becomes a foreleg aiming to hook Andras at the crook between his shoulders and neck, and bring down teeth to the back of the black stallion's neck.
To make something bleed.
Zayir's ears continue to ring; but perhaps it is only the crowd; perhaps it is only his own blood, rushing.
"Speech." ||
nothing is static, everything is evolving
everything is falling apart
Summary: Zayir contemplates his own feelings about the fight and how badly he needs it. In response to Andras's concussive blast and flailing hooves, Zayir is struck on the nose hard enough to split skin. Additionally, Zayir reels back, momentarily disoriented and unable to see. His ears are ringing. Before his vision clears, Zayir charges forward again and then rears, aiming to come down atop Andras. His vision clears, and he aims to hook Andras at the junction of the neck and shoulder and bite, forcefully, the back of his neck.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: None
Response Deadline: July 5th
Tags: @
