illynx,

Her head was with her today; the lost battle with Smoke had taught her much in the ways of modesty, and the Reaper's own prowess was renowned far and wide across the land, a name to send babes quivering back to their mother's bellies. She was not afraid, simply aware that she was standing toe to toe with a man who had earned his place among their ranks of warriors; despite her crippled ego in regards to the Lady Psyche, she was not daft enough to let her jilted spirit override the need for her to prove herself. Unlike her companion of so many years, the Lord Deimos had never witnessed the Gilded Blade in battle, and with no tried and true history of conquest between the pair of them, this spar would be the first door pried open to his knowledge of her, a woman who had remained an unused weapon that gleamed venomously in the shadows much of her life until now, the weight of her crown pressing her to prove herself to those around her.

"Begin," said death's usher, and her golden eyes were torn from his own azure pools as her body lunged into motion, normally feminine features contorted into her less than womanly grimace of contemplation that seemed to overwhelm her whenever captured in the heat of a battle. Streams of ebony locks cascaded behind her as she drove hard to the left of the man before her, utilizing her speed to dash quickly along his side, slowing her momentum as she reached where she assumed his middle section would be. Feinting as if she would strike out with the blade of her namesake, the mare's head pulled towards his frame even as her hind end pivoted around to send her hooves out towards his charcoal flesh; it was a bold move to not open with her golden dagger, forelegs spread for grip and sliding ever so slightly on the dew-laden grass of the Valley that shimmered beneath the bloody rise of the sun, but it would seem her Gods were with her on this day as she did not tumble down into the arms of the emerald sea.

No pause was given the Reaper, no hesitation to affirm that her aim had been true; her golden spine straightens and she is moving as soon as her hooves are on the ground, a rushing, muddy river over a bed of gold that dashes away several paces from his left flank to avoid the penetration of his sapphire dipped horn. Still braced for an impact, knowing that he wouldn't just stand there and take her blows freely though she was quite secure in the speed of her movements, her dock was drawn tightly to her rump to keep her long and rippling tail from the clutches of his teeth as best as she could- futile, perhaps, but she was quite proud of her physical blessings, especially her black locks.

Drawing back around to the left, her back hooves bite into the night-chilled earth as her fore-end rises from the ground several inches to allow her to lunge back around towards Deimos, hoping that he had assumed she would continue forward away from him and would be open to an assault on his nearest shoulder or the ribs; attempting to avoid any punctures to his velvet coat, her horn is angled to smack rather than pierce.

It does not mean she holds back any on the force of the blow. For Psyche, she thinks, I will show this man why I was given my crown.

[1/3 : 604 words; woot woot ]

intending to burn - pretending to fight it
everyone learns faster on fire