AION
As his momentum carries him forward, hard hooves digging into the ground and flinging sod in his wake, he sees the behemoth across the makeshift arena do the same. Their bodies hurtle towards each other in space and time, every step bringing the inevitable clash closer. Aion prepares himself for it, anticipating the teeth and hooves he knows will fly out at him, trying to batter him away, force him back to the ground. He won’t let it happen: he already can taste the blood from Tor’s hock, and he is determined to taste blood again.
But something is off.
There is no satisfying collision of bodies, no impact between the beast and the hound. Their trajectory is set to carry them straight past each other, a hairsbreadth of separation, and it is too late now to change course. Aion can hardly help the frustration that floods his veins as the purple-splashed stallion dodges him, refusing to meet him head-on in the traditional battle fashion. His hackles raise and shudder, teeth gnashing together in anger.
Aion is determined to not let him get away so easily. He acts purely on instinct as his hindquarters lower to the ground, hooves planting and digging to halt his forward trajectory. Every muscle strains, his injured side still screaming in protest as he forces himself to stop.
It’s only as he slows and rethinks his strategy that he realizes Torstein’s intent, catching sight of that great rack of horns angling to meet him head on.
he flings his own head sideways, away from the incoming collision. His body follows suit, lifting off the ground to dart out of the way. As his legs gather beneath him, now perpendicular to his opponent’s onslaught, he feels the grazing bite across his croup. The longest of Torstein’s horns grazes the top of his hindquarters, rolling across the curvature of his hips and leaving a short trail of red in its wake. It burns and itches, Aion’s skin crawling around the scrape—but it could have been far worse.
Once the two stallions are clear of one another, Aion spins back around to face the draft in anger, eyes flashing. The anger within them stood out vibrantly against his dark face, and now that he has a chance to breathe once more does he realize just how alive the emotion makes him feel.
“Trying to skewer me, Tor?” he snaps, sulking around the side of their dirt arena, maintaining a healthy distance. He limps slightly on his left foreleg, for that is where Torstein kick landed and placing his weight upon it strains the muscles of his side. “I’m afraid it will take more than that to best me.”
text. talk.
headshot by rhiann
Summary: Realizing they aren't going to collide, Aion comes to a sliding stop and tries to rethink his attack on the fly. That's when he sees Torstein's horns coming straight at him, and he uses his momentum from the slide to twist his body and jump perpendicularly away from Torstein, dodging the attack. The longest tine of Tor's horns scrapes along the top of his rump, drawing blood but is relatively superficial and not as severe as what could have happened. Once they are clear from each other, Aion maintains his distance and starts up his shit talking again.
Attack Used: 2
Attack(s) Left: 0
Block Used: 1
Block(s) Left: 0
Item(s) Used:
Response Deadline: 11/27/2017 EST
Tags: @Torstein, @
