Israfel
There was no collision with her blow. It was empty, hollow, no force rushing to meet gilded hooves at the apex of her strike. In turn, there was no satisfaction in its wake, only bitter disappointment for an opportunity missed. If this had been war or a battle to the death, such a result could prove to be her downfall. Somehow, despite his size and the upturned, hole-riddled earth below their feet, Diarmuid was capable of strafing out of range and avoiding her attack completely. He did so with the swiftness and poise of a seasoned veteran, a learned soldier familiar with tactics of the like she had just attempted. Was it a rookie move, the one she had just used? Had he been able to see her attack before she had even implemented it?
Gritting her teeth as her rear haunches landed heavily back upon the dusty earth, Israfel planned to swing around and face the rose-grey knight head on, but the choice was quickly taken from her. With a warning bellow, a deep, rumbling baritone echoing into the air from the lips of the previously silent stallion, Diarmuid retaliated at last with a grand show of force. It was the first true hostile act that he had taken against her, the bite to her crest notwithstanding, and Israfel found herself alarmed by it. Heavy muscled pulled taut with his motions, the sweat that mottled his hide standing out starkly against the natural grey of him. He was a weapon, a mighty creation bred and groomed for war, and she was his unfortunate adversary.
He reared, black hooves striking outwards like deadly knives, and the Sun Daughter found herself gawking but for a moment before desperation spurred her to act. With a less than graceful maneuver, the ivory maiden's gilded wings snapped upwards in a great unfurling motion, lifting skyward, erect and proud, and then swept downwards in a mighty arc to help her propel from the ground, but not to take flight. Dust kicked up beneath the current created from the action, and Israfel threw herself bodily to the right to avoid his strike, aided by the strength of her wings.
Diarmuid's hooves brushed against the supple curvature of her rump amidst her hastily thrown together escape. It did not hurt and felt simply like a scraping pressure, but the distance that she had managed to obtain was enough to dispel the true force of the blow. Cloven hooves scrabbled for purchase amidst the treacherous ground, the panic of her mind overriding the necessary caution she had once held at the fore front of her mind. As she found her balance, limber legs swaying and trembling from exertion, Israfel's sharp vermilion eyes turned to focus completely on Diarmuid.
The kindly knight was once again on all fours, facing her, his expression warm and welcoming and so very alive with the aftermath of adrenaline. Israfel understood. Her blood continued to pump, that steady, constant reminder that she was alive thrumming in her ears, the pale plains of her chest and barrel heaving as she attempted to catch her breath. Exertion to this degree was something that she was not yet used to, but by the Gods if she wasn't satisfied.
Rose-kissed lips twisted upwards, and once again, she laughed. It was a merry, hearty sound, innocent and sweet and so very lively. "You're right," she conceded, all smiles and joy, and with a languid stretch of her wings, she moved to approach the stallion's side, hooves once more trekking carefully atop the upturned earth. "I definitely won't be falling for that again."
There they were, two strangers tied together by the same desire to protect a singular place that they both called home. What a pair they made. She surely looked awry; sweat-soaked, gilded hair wild and mussed, a sizable chunk of her mane missing from where Diarmuid had ripped it from her crest. Ah, well. It would grow back.
"What a fight. Thank you, Diarmuid. I haven't felt so alive in a very long time." Diarmuid could not possibly know the truth to her words. Israfel went on, however, ears forward, posture relaxing, the thrum of adrenaline slowly fading, to be replaced by the aches of their tussle. "... Maybe we should be getting back to the Court before the night grows late."
Gritting her teeth as her rear haunches landed heavily back upon the dusty earth, Israfel planned to swing around and face the rose-grey knight head on, but the choice was quickly taken from her. With a warning bellow, a deep, rumbling baritone echoing into the air from the lips of the previously silent stallion, Diarmuid retaliated at last with a grand show of force. It was the first true hostile act that he had taken against her, the bite to her crest notwithstanding, and Israfel found herself alarmed by it. Heavy muscled pulled taut with his motions, the sweat that mottled his hide standing out starkly against the natural grey of him. He was a weapon, a mighty creation bred and groomed for war, and she was his unfortunate adversary.
He reared, black hooves striking outwards like deadly knives, and the Sun Daughter found herself gawking but for a moment before desperation spurred her to act. With a less than graceful maneuver, the ivory maiden's gilded wings snapped upwards in a great unfurling motion, lifting skyward, erect and proud, and then swept downwards in a mighty arc to help her propel from the ground, but not to take flight. Dust kicked up beneath the current created from the action, and Israfel threw herself bodily to the right to avoid his strike, aided by the strength of her wings.
Diarmuid's hooves brushed against the supple curvature of her rump amidst her hastily thrown together escape. It did not hurt and felt simply like a scraping pressure, but the distance that she had managed to obtain was enough to dispel the true force of the blow. Cloven hooves scrabbled for purchase amidst the treacherous ground, the panic of her mind overriding the necessary caution she had once held at the fore front of her mind. As she found her balance, limber legs swaying and trembling from exertion, Israfel's sharp vermilion eyes turned to focus completely on Diarmuid.
The kindly knight was once again on all fours, facing her, his expression warm and welcoming and so very alive with the aftermath of adrenaline. Israfel understood. Her blood continued to pump, that steady, constant reminder that she was alive thrumming in her ears, the pale plains of her chest and barrel heaving as she attempted to catch her breath. Exertion to this degree was something that she was not yet used to, but by the Gods if she wasn't satisfied.
Rose-kissed lips twisted upwards, and once again, she laughed. It was a merry, hearty sound, innocent and sweet and so very lively. "You're right," she conceded, all smiles and joy, and with a languid stretch of her wings, she moved to approach the stallion's side, hooves once more trekking carefully atop the upturned earth. "I definitely won't be falling for that again."
There they were, two strangers tied together by the same desire to protect a singular place that they both called home. What a pair they made. She surely looked awry; sweat-soaked, gilded hair wild and mussed, a sizable chunk of her mane missing from where Diarmuid had ripped it from her crest. Ah, well. It would grow back.
"What a fight. Thank you, Diarmuid. I haven't felt so alive in a very long time." Diarmuid could not possibly know the truth to her words. Israfel went on, however, ears forward, posture relaxing, the thrum of adrenaline slowly fading, to be replaced by the aches of their tussle. "... Maybe we should be getting back to the Court before the night grows late."
<3 <3 This was so much fun! Thank you so much for sparring with me, Rien!
