like having your throat cut,
just that fast
just that fast
For a moment there is only the thrill of flight and the chaos of the crowd. For a moment only those two things matter because she’s free, and wild, and as endless as the horizon. On her tongue there is the taste of salt, sweat, sand, and the lingering taste of dye from where her father’s servants painted warpaint across her nose. She hopes that the stallion can see the smears of red and think of them as blood instead of paint (and think her dangerous instead of beautiful).
There is war, and battle, and brutality. Amaunet only relishes in one like a lion at a watering hole with a feast of foals.
In the back of her mind, the part where she’s almost civilized, she notes the way El Toro dodges and the way his lion lingers. That part of her plots, and plans, and counts steps instead of lighting bolts of pain. She drops her hooves into a jump landing she brushes by the Champion and aims towards the shoulder of his lion.
She revels in the impact to come like a wolf at an ewe’s jugular.
But then she feels the slice of horn across the meaty muscles of her flank and war turns to eradication (her magic leaps at the pain and devours it). She snarls instead of sobs when the blood starts to bloom across the wound.
The wing furthest from him dips instinctually pulling her away from the impact of his attack. Dust billows in clouds around her as she gallops back into flight half across the sands and half across the air. Her wings lift her back into the air with a force that is almost painful enough to distract her from the pulse and sting of her bloody (and now sand coated) wound.
A ewe can only avoid the teeth (or death) for so long. Hunger is a relentless master and it takes no failures.
So Amaunet angles her flight path towards the stallion with a determination bred into her by years of Davke training and harsh desert climates. She is no fragile flower rooted in the city. It’s with a violence learned from the sand wyrms that she lunges back towards him. This time she uses the force of a flight landing to gallop towards him. She keeps a wing angled towards the lion, prepared for any attack he might launch against the furious intent in her form.
But her eyes linger mostly on El Toro as she gallops towards him before turning swiftly to the side of him in order to angle her hindlegs towards him in a double kick. She aims for any of the fragile joints in his hind-end.
War might not be tit-for-tat in the long game.
But Amaunet, at the moment, cannot find it in herself to care.
@El Toro
There is war, and battle, and brutality. Amaunet only relishes in one like a lion at a watering hole with a feast of foals.
In the back of her mind, the part where she’s almost civilized, she notes the way El Toro dodges and the way his lion lingers. That part of her plots, and plans, and counts steps instead of lighting bolts of pain. She drops her hooves into a jump landing she brushes by the Champion and aims towards the shoulder of his lion.
She revels in the impact to come like a wolf at an ewe’s jugular.
But then she feels the slice of horn across the meaty muscles of her flank and war turns to eradication (her magic leaps at the pain and devours it). She snarls instead of sobs when the blood starts to bloom across the wound.
The wing furthest from him dips instinctually pulling her away from the impact of his attack. Dust billows in clouds around her as she gallops back into flight half across the sands and half across the air. Her wings lift her back into the air with a force that is almost painful enough to distract her from the pulse and sting of her bloody (and now sand coated) wound.
A ewe can only avoid the teeth (or death) for so long. Hunger is a relentless master and it takes no failures.
So Amaunet angles her flight path towards the stallion with a determination bred into her by years of Davke training and harsh desert climates. She is no fragile flower rooted in the city. It’s with a violence learned from the sand wyrms that she lunges back towards him. This time she uses the force of a flight landing to gallop towards him. She keeps a wing angled towards the lion, prepared for any attack he might launch against the furious intent in her form.
But her eyes linger mostly on El Toro as she gallops towards him before turning swiftly to the side of him in order to angle her hindlegs towards him in a double kick. She aims for any of the fragile joints in his hind-end.
War might not be tit-for-tat in the long game.
But Amaunet, at the moment, cannot find it in herself to care.
@El Toro
Summary:Toro's attack lands on the meaty part of her hind-end as she moves past him. She angles her wing to pull her away from him and his lion instead of fully landing. Looping around she uses the force of her new landing to keep up her speed before she angles towards him before adjusting her path so that she might aim at his hind-end in a double barreled kick. She keeps the further wing out to balance herself but also to semi protect from a lion's attack on her off side. (or at least I think that's what she did, I forget already).
Attack Used: 1
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: n/a
Response Deadline: Whenever <3
Tags: @El Toro, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @layla
