Israfel
Now was the time. She was the daughter of Gods and Saints, a creature of both heaven and earth, cloaked in ivory and gold and sent to walk among the mortals from the depths of the undead. Bathed in the crimson light of the dying sun, morale bolstered from the winds of change and promise, Israfel made her first strike as a warrior of Terrastella.
Are you watching, Papa? She beckoned eagerly to the dying sun, wondering if her Godly father was watching her from his place among the heavens. Could he even see her here in Novus? Were his eyes, as mighty and reverent as the rest of him, blocked by the veil between worlds?
There was a moment of immense satisfaction as her teeth latched onto rose-grey hair and flesh, the dull points of her incisors snapping shut and holding tight to the skin of Diarmuid's right shoulder in a crude, pinching chomp. The taste of sweat and a tinge of copper filled her mouth, coating her tongue, but she pushed on past the unsavory flavor. That moment of elation, of victory for something so mundane as a simple bite, however, was vastly short lived, because then, well...
Then, collision. Breathless, gasping, reeling. Israfel was not prepared, thanks to her inexperience when it came to all things battle. There was a fleeting moment of panic, of misunderstanding and confusion as her mind rapidly tried to process what had happened, before it all sank in. Diarmuid had stood his ground despite her brazen charge, and as her bite landed successfully against his shoulder, he lunged into her space, the broad, muscled expanse of his front colliding into her slighter, ivory breast. A pained, startled gasp inadvertently escaped rosy lips, sharp vermilion eyes wide and bewildered. It both ached and winded her, the shock seeming to reverberate through her very core. She heaved, trying to catch her breath. His move served its purpose, staggering the Sun Daughter where she stood, wings splayed outwards to the left and right of her trembling frame, winded and momentarily frozen. The sheer force of the collision was enough to wrench Diarmuid's flesh from between her teeth, her head knocking upwards and away from his right shoulder.
The silver knight, however, was not done. He reached out, the thick tendons in his neck straining and taut, before his teeth latched onto the curve of her crest in the middle of her neck. It did not hurt, not completely, but there was an ache to where he held her in a successful grapple, preventing her from pulling away nor attacking him once more. In agitation, her wings gave a mighty flap, gilded alabaster appendages raising before sweeping sharply downwards in an attempt to free herself.
For a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, Israfel thought to rear high into the air to wrench herself free of his hold. The thought was quick to leave her mind, sound judgement overruling blind panic. To rear upon her haunches and attempt to wrest herself free would give Diarmuid the perfect opportunity to charge forward and use his considerable bulk against her. Knocking her onto her back would be far too easy given their difference in build, and so Israfel dismissed the thought just as quickly as it had arrived. No. If she wouldn't rear, then what could she do...?
The thought came to her quite suddenly, and she realized that she needed to act before the moment was lost. Still standing intimately close to him, their chests pressed together, his teeth wrapped tight around her in a submissive hold, her head still pressed against the curve of his right shoulder, the Sun Daughter's petite ears pressed back against the poll of her skull. Back arching, gilded wings once more lifted into the air, elegant feathers full of deceptive strength raising into an arc above their heads, a halo of divine flesh and bone, before sweeping downwards and back, giving her the momentum that she so desperately needed. In time with the thrust of her wings, Israfel ducked to the side and lunged, round haunches pushing off of the ground as she physically, and rather crudely, ripped herself free from Diarmuid's toothy hold and jumped forward to his right. She winced, a thick lock of ivory tresses ripping from her crest from the force of her leap, but she could not mourn the loss of hair. Not yet. Perhaps once, before her death, she would have lamented the loss of such fine hair, always vain over her looks, but she was not that same ignorant, materialistic youth.
No. She was a warrior. She was volatile and passionate, dangerous and carefree, an unforgiving wildfire personified. Once ignited, she could not be doused. Israfel would incinerate her course until satisfied, and while an ally, Diarmuid would know well just how deep her fires could burn.
Now free of Diarmuid's hold, poised horizontal to his right side, her head towards his muscled rump, Israfel turned her front away, pivoting to her right to avoid any kick he might think to send in her direction. Instead of fleeing and forgetting any intention on exploiting his left side, she retaliated but remained close, bracing her forelegs and kicking out backwards with both hind legs in a buck, hoping to land a hit against the silver knight's right shoulder, the same that she had already bitten.
The battle was waging. It was now, and Israfel was not ready to give up.
Are you watching, Papa? She beckoned eagerly to the dying sun, wondering if her Godly father was watching her from his place among the heavens. Could he even see her here in Novus? Were his eyes, as mighty and reverent as the rest of him, blocked by the veil between worlds?
There was a moment of immense satisfaction as her teeth latched onto rose-grey hair and flesh, the dull points of her incisors snapping shut and holding tight to the skin of Diarmuid's right shoulder in a crude, pinching chomp. The taste of sweat and a tinge of copper filled her mouth, coating her tongue, but she pushed on past the unsavory flavor. That moment of elation, of victory for something so mundane as a simple bite, however, was vastly short lived, because then, well...
Then, collision. Breathless, gasping, reeling. Israfel was not prepared, thanks to her inexperience when it came to all things battle. There was a fleeting moment of panic, of misunderstanding and confusion as her mind rapidly tried to process what had happened, before it all sank in. Diarmuid had stood his ground despite her brazen charge, and as her bite landed successfully against his shoulder, he lunged into her space, the broad, muscled expanse of his front colliding into her slighter, ivory breast. A pained, startled gasp inadvertently escaped rosy lips, sharp vermilion eyes wide and bewildered. It both ached and winded her, the shock seeming to reverberate through her very core. She heaved, trying to catch her breath. His move served its purpose, staggering the Sun Daughter where she stood, wings splayed outwards to the left and right of her trembling frame, winded and momentarily frozen. The sheer force of the collision was enough to wrench Diarmuid's flesh from between her teeth, her head knocking upwards and away from his right shoulder.
The silver knight, however, was not done. He reached out, the thick tendons in his neck straining and taut, before his teeth latched onto the curve of her crest in the middle of her neck. It did not hurt, not completely, but there was an ache to where he held her in a successful grapple, preventing her from pulling away nor attacking him once more. In agitation, her wings gave a mighty flap, gilded alabaster appendages raising before sweeping sharply downwards in an attempt to free herself.
For a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, Israfel thought to rear high into the air to wrench herself free of his hold. The thought was quick to leave her mind, sound judgement overruling blind panic. To rear upon her haunches and attempt to wrest herself free would give Diarmuid the perfect opportunity to charge forward and use his considerable bulk against her. Knocking her onto her back would be far too easy given their difference in build, and so Israfel dismissed the thought just as quickly as it had arrived. No. If she wouldn't rear, then what could she do...?
The thought came to her quite suddenly, and she realized that she needed to act before the moment was lost. Still standing intimately close to him, their chests pressed together, his teeth wrapped tight around her in a submissive hold, her head still pressed against the curve of his right shoulder, the Sun Daughter's petite ears pressed back against the poll of her skull. Back arching, gilded wings once more lifted into the air, elegant feathers full of deceptive strength raising into an arc above their heads, a halo of divine flesh and bone, before sweeping downwards and back, giving her the momentum that she so desperately needed. In time with the thrust of her wings, Israfel ducked to the side and lunged, round haunches pushing off of the ground as she physically, and rather crudely, ripped herself free from Diarmuid's toothy hold and jumped forward to his right. She winced, a thick lock of ivory tresses ripping from her crest from the force of her leap, but she could not mourn the loss of hair. Not yet. Perhaps once, before her death, she would have lamented the loss of such fine hair, always vain over her looks, but she was not that same ignorant, materialistic youth.
No. She was a warrior. She was volatile and passionate, dangerous and carefree, an unforgiving wildfire personified. Once ignited, she could not be doused. Israfel would incinerate her course until satisfied, and while an ally, Diarmuid would know well just how deep her fires could burn.
Now free of Diarmuid's hold, poised horizontal to his right side, her head towards his muscled rump, Israfel turned her front away, pivoting to her right to avoid any kick he might think to send in her direction. Instead of fleeing and forgetting any intention on exploiting his left side, she retaliated but remained close, bracing her forelegs and kicking out backwards with both hind legs in a buck, hoping to land a hit against the silver knight's right shoulder, the same that she had already bitten.
The battle was waging. It was now, and Israfel was not ready to give up.
Summary: Israfel took Diarmuid's hit, pained and winded by his collision, and was grappled by his attack. In hopes to free herself, Israfel lunges to Diarmuid's right side and loses a mouthful of mane in the process. Standing parallel to his right side, head to rump, she attempts to kick out backwards towards his right shoulder.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: N/A
Response Deadline: 10/23/17
Tags: @Diarmuid, @
