AION
Exhilaration flooded through his veins as his teeth sank into flesh. Every synapse burned and fired at once, clearing the clutter from his mind and narrowing his focus onto the the purple hock he held, tightening his jaw as hair and blood filled his open mouth. The muscles against his temple flexed, teeth flashing pearly white against his own black muzzle and Torstein’s plum skin—but they were already beginning to slide, losing purchase as the leg was pulled cleanly away. Aion nearly whined as it was; like a dog whose favorite bone had been unfairly taken away, keening in hopes that it would be returned.
But this was a bone he wouldn’t want back.
There was no time to think, only react: as Torstein pulled his leg away Aion let him, his body still hurtling through space past his hind end. But Torstein moved fast as well, faster than Aion had expected: the hoof came striking back at him in the blink of an eye, and he couldn’t quite move fast enough, twisting his body gruesomely in his attempt to avoid the kick. Despite his mid-air efforts the cracked, weathered hoof catches just behind his elbow, forcing the air from his lungs in a whoosh and lifting that corresponding limb high.
Pain blossoms through his belly, panic settling in for just a moment as he struggles to catch both his breath and his balance. His momentum comes to a stop, a cough racking painfully through his ribs as he wheezes and stumbles, stars dotting the corners of his vision. He’s suspended in time, struggling to force his lungs to relax and work, but seconds drag slowly by as he recovers and only dust fills his mouth. Even if he had the ability to speak—difficult to do while his lungs spasm and ache, desperately trying to bring air back into them—he would not stoop to such levels. The time for talk was over, it was time to fight. A silent snarl drags his lips up, ears pinned and lost in the crown of feathers atop his poll.
By the time Torstein turns to face him again, he’s recovered enough to follow those stalking movements. His blue eyes narrow, recognizing his opponent’s movements as a crude mimicry of the beginning of their confrontation—only now Aion is found at the center, a cornered wolf ready to snap. His tail lashes out behind him, hackles raised; deliberately he draws first one hoof and then the next across the ground in a display of impatience. He doesn’t have time to wait for Torstein to attack; the anticipation kills him, and he tracks the three-eyed demon’s movements with his head dropped low, a canid growl rolling through his throat.
Like an arrow loosed from a bow he’s off once again, facing the Day Court Warden head on with teeth bared in another blind leap. Aion doesn’t double check his attack, he just goes, ready to taste blood a second time. Despite their differences in height, he aims himself this time for the throat—and if his hooves need to pummel the pretty white chest as a stepping stool for purchase, so be it. Although he isn’t intentionally aiming to kill, he’s sure the area is still sensitive—even with those monstrous spines protecting it.
text. talk.
headshot by rhiann
Summary: Aion takes the kick along his belly just behind his shoulder, and it unbalances him and sends him flying a little off to the side, knocking the air out of his temporarily. He recovers as Torstein bolts, becoming impatient when he starts to circle. After being dramatic and pawing a bit he charges Torstein, looking for a death hold on his neck but willing to kick the shit out of his closed chest cavity in the process since he’s short and might not be able to reach without a step-up.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used:
Response Deadline: 11/27/2017 EST
Tags: @Torstein, @
