Everybody's got a plan. Everybody's got some formula they think is going to get what them what they want, take them to the top, bring them to the honor and glory they think they deserve. So... yours? Step one- destroy Eris. Check. Well, perhaps destroy is a little strong, but you did mangle her face and take down the Asylum's beloved Legatus. Close enough. Step two- gather an army. It's slow going, but you're working on it. Eris, Circuta, maybe that skull-faced bitch... It's a work in progress. Step three- take down Seele and Midas. Step four- profit? You haven't really gotten that far yet.

But for now, you are stuck in the maelstrom of step two and you've only got so much time. Step two cannot last forever. Either you gather an army and move on to step three or you get sucked into the vortex and pulled down. After all, sooner or later the Glass Horn and the Golden Asshole are going to figure it out. Subtlety has never really been your specialty. At least you have Sugar Lips on your side- Circuta's saccharine tongue will definitely buy you some time that you didn't have before. In the mean time... you train.

It's as if somebody has read your mind when a shrill sound breaks the air. Perfect timing. You sway and stumble up some path you're not even sure how you got on and wonder who it is that has screamed out for blood. For a moment you think it is somebody you know. She looks so much like Elsa, whom you have already thrashed once. But it is not one of the crazies who has screamed bloody murder in the night. It's the bleeding heart. You stop short while she trots around, hiding just at the top of the path and peering into the open field, watching her motions and narrowing your eyes. It's been a while since you've seen her, but you haven't forgotten... Better make sure she doesn't try any more of that touchy-feely, let me know you crap again. Perhaps this spar will be good for more than just training.

A feeling not your own- curiosity- floods your mind. Its your black wisp, your obnoxious little play toy that follows you around. You roll your eyes as you slip your leather bag over your head and hide behind a boulder near the path. No, you tell her simply. You're too much of an idiot. You wouldn't understand. Just being mean to her hasn't worked yet. You're trying for degrading now. Maybe this will help her figure it out. What is it with people you don't like trying to get close to you anyways? Do you look like an open book?

Breaking into a canter- a wobbly canter no doubt- you break over the horizon and into the open field. You return her scream with one of your own, a low rumbling bellow, and thoroughly announce your presence. Like you said, subtleties aren't your thing. Digging into the dusty ground, you power forward, brown eyes locked on the cremello body you plan to slam into. One, two, three. One, two, three. You count your hoof beats as you grow nearer. And when you think you're close, you life your head and press your chest out. Nothing like slamming your chest into her side, if you've aimed right, to start the spar out. You grit your teeth and wait for the pain you hope will come. And close your eyes, because you're pretty sure you're about to get a face full of feathers. It will be worth it, though. And good practice. Midas has a set of feathers all his own.

WC| 616
Post| 1/3
Comments| None for now, since your opening post won't be judged. Good luck!