She dances in the morning sun, firm on her feet yet light in her heart. Contestants, contenders, all fade from her mind; she is the hero of this story, the knight in home-spun armor, the protagonist come to wrest her princess from the clutch of dire beasts. Copper coat is covered by a blanket of silver string, crochet armor resting effortlessly across narrow shoulders and down to stardust flanks, reaching up to the point of her poll and nearly concealing the child's silver braids. The fabric is held by a harness of steel-brushed cardboard, flimsy foam and leather straps creating the illusion of metal plates over her flanks, her withers and chest. On her hooves are cardboard boots, on her face the only true steel, a metal mask with iron horn protruding outward in a broad, arced foot. It is her sword, and she wields it with pride, though the weight is uncomfortable and new on her neck. The paper on her flanks and the crochet mail bears the symbol of a sunlit flower, the girl's chosen crest. From the sidelines, her brother cheers in a tunic of red, a gold flower emblazoned on the back of his gown. Their costumes lack grandeur but are dripping with soul; they have fashioned them alone, and take pride in their work.

The girl is grateful that the hour is not late, that the light of the sun is too drowsy for heat. Cool grass flutters against coated hooves; she marches, head high, toward her foe and then stops. Four lengths are left between girl and mare; the horned crown falls low, a bow of respect, as Tandavi acknowledges the shorter Pompeii. Both girls are youthful, still reaching their prime, and the flutters in the firechild's heart send a shy smile to coil at her lips. She is glad to be pitched against one so near her age, and secretly pleased by superior bulk, the weight of her sire and the height of her dam. No malice rests now in the girl's bright mind, but a fire to win is beginning to grow, fueled by adrenaline and the sweat in the air.

For a moment she is hesitant, her muscles strung in apprehensive readiness. Is it her place to strike out first? Would such an act be unchivalrous, against the nature of her very guise? The girl has taken her costume to heart, and loathes the thought she might serve it ill; she is a paladin, a champion, a gallant knight of the golden sun! She must fight with honor, must not fall to sin. She raises her head and inhales the air, satisfying herself that the other bears no magic- The I must take care not to wield my own. What if she injures the slightly smaller girl? Then I can heal her when this is done. What if she looses control of herself?

What if all day we sit saying what if?

The fox's bright voice is riddled with humor, a laughing encouragement and affectionate tease. She flicks an ear to where he sits behind her, watching the scene from a knoll in the grass, and playfully lashes her tail his way. But he's right, his excitement riling up her own, sending shivers through muscle and lighting her gaze. Black eyes are blazing as Tandavi calls out, "On guard!"

The words are barely echoes in the air when her hooves hit the ground, a gun fired at last. Trepidation abandoned, the the girl is fire, inferno, a flaming tornado cast into the green sea. She charges the other, long limbs surging as she leaps into her run; slender frame hurls forward, toward sinew and bone. Her left shoulder leads, a javelin poised to strike Pompeii's left breast, in the style of knights who rode steeds long ago. The sword on her head does not aim for the heart, or anything else- not yet, at least. It is heavy and awkward and she is unprepared to wield it, not before she learns the way her quarry leaps and kicks and fights. Instead the girl arcs her neck up, teeth aiming to grab at the white-and-copper mane. She does not want to hurt, to injure or maim; this is not a violent fight, but one of fire and passion and fun, one which burns in her breast and brightens her eyes. It is a dance, a duet, a competition of friends, a contest to be won through red honor, not blood.

@[Pompeii] | Attack 1/2 | 748 words
Tandavi is dressed as a knight