Asterion He is not prepared for the blossom of blood just above her eye; scattered jewels, they gleam like ill-won rubies against her golden face. Asterion flinches and almost drops the fight to go to her until she speaks again; his fears are allayed by the words and the tone though his only response is to shake his head. The boy is a slow learner: he had not expected his sister to be such a talker, not on the training field. As he circles her, mindful of the pock-marked earth, she laughs and continues to speak, the bell of her voice ringing and ringing, on and on. And on. Should he be seizing these moments to attack her? His blood is hot beneath his winter coat; he is worried that if he stops moving the bruised muscles of his hindquarters will stiffen and seize. At the mention of their father his ears twist again; he is still unsure how he feels about Gabriel. She made him sound like…not quite a hero, but neither the wandering, faceless man Asterion had always believed him to be. Certainly she saw him as a good father, whereas he had had no father at all; it was a strange thing, to hold both views in his heart. If all her talk was to distract him, at last it has worked; he pauses in his circling just as she flings herself forward. Had she struck then, he would have been helpless; later he would imagine the loud snap in the quiet day, the pain that would follow, and shiver. But they are inexperienced at this as much as being siblings, and by the time she’s pivoting he’s returned to his senses. Asterion shies sideways, missing her hooves entirely; there is only her laugh on the air, her wings flared brilliant and golden, and him wondering if she’d truly meant to maim him. He doesn’t wait for her wings to close again; as he hooves return to soil he pushes forward, grunting at the weight on his injured leg, seeking to thrust his shoulder, hard, into the place just behind where her wings join her body. He has a face-full of feathers (these, too, smell of flowers) until she peels away. This time he only stands after the follow-through of his attack, panting, still a little wide-eyed at the near miss of his leg. He’s even more surprised (he shouldn’t be, by now) when her babble of conversation continues, sounding less winded than he feels. The truth is that he doesn’t know much about Aislinn at all, and neither does he appreciate her leaning on that point. “I know she wouldn’t like me talking about her here,” he says, though it’s more feeling than fact. But then his expression softens, and he motions toward the Dusk Court. “I’ll tell you what I know on the way home.” And then they had both better find a battle-coach. |
Summary: Asterion grows distracted by her chatter but still manages to avoid her kick. As soon as she's done executing her attack he attacks back, trying to ram his shoulder into her exposed side. Then he stands about and tries not to bristle at her questions.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 1
Block(s) Left: 0
Item(s) Used: NA
Response Deadline: Nov. 11, 2017
Tags: @
