Rostislav

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that her reaction is less than savory. If I was a pretty lady and someone called me a harlot, I wouldn't be too pleased either. Her anger radiates outward and I feel the rain start to fall harder on our pelts. Instead of the dappling that had been appearing on my dusty hide before, I now feel myself becoming much more saturated with the sky's tears. Or are they her tears? I'm starting to learn that this mare is somehow altering the weather, but I don't think 'tears' would be an accurate description of her countenance now. Fury shown in her electric blue eyes, and I pin my ears back against my skull. Though I meant only to sass her with my words, she has apparently taken them as a challenge, and may be ready to castrate me. My arousal that had just been so prominent retreats back toward my groin. That's certainly not a pleasant thought.

The rain falls harder and I look at the sky, expecting thunder and lightning at any moment. I look back at her, and her hide has turned terribly dark, reflecting the sky above. I wonder if she even realizes it. I look down at Damaris. The black and neon green hellhound's hackles are raised, her ears pinned back. She doesn't like me being threatened, and though I appreciate her concern, she is too young to do anything about it. I speak to her in my mind, hoping she will hear the emotion and do as I say. 'Stay back, Damaris. I do not want you to get hurt.' She looks up at me and whines, displeased that I am making her sit this out. I look down at her, my face showing my resolve. She turns her snout toward the Sky-Lady and growls one last time before turning her tail and retreating from us.

I turn my attention back to the increasing ball of fury in front of me. I'm tired of the drama that mares seem to bring and toss around, and as soon as this one turned on me, I was no longer in the mood to humor her. Whatever her name is. I pin my ears again and bare my teeth. I was not interested in fighting this mare, but now I'm not sure I have a choice. Not to mention, I'm concerned that her interest in Damaris is not a passing fancy. The clouds overhead have gathered so tight you can barely tell the time of day. The light that passes through is just enough to illuminate our forms, and were we not about to fight, I would say that it's a Kodak moment. My two-toned mane sticks to my neck, and I realize that we are both now totally soaked.

I lunge forward, playing no games, putting on no fronts as I move toward her in my first attack. I stay on the ground, protecting my rotund belly, and my hooves slide on the softening ground. I will have to be careful in my steps. My teeth are bared, reeking of the vodka that I drink throughout most of the day, and I seek any part of her face or throat that she leaves exposed to me. If I manage to tear off any hair, skin - anything, really - it's her own damn fault. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll stab her with the dragon-like spikes that decorate the center of my face. As I approach the spot where she most recently was, I think to myself that it's like trying to destroy or poke holes in clouds. What a strange notion....

I clamp my jaws down on whatever I can reach, whether it be flesh, bone, or air. I shake my head vigorously, blinking furiously to keep the rain out of my eyes. I feel all the frustration from Aurelia and other crazy mares (well really, just Aurelia and this one) boiling inside me, and I realize I'm taking out my rage on this poor thing. But really, how much should I pity her? She tried to play me for a fool, and this just happens to be the result. I'm sure she'll understand.

Walk. Talk.

Tag: @[Cirrus]
WC: 701
Dice Roll: Here
Attack: [1,3]
OOC: Picking up from our thread in Thistle Meadow. This is an OOC teaching spar. Includes magic but no companions. Rosti is lunging for Cirrus's face and throat and grabbing on with his teeth to whatever he can reach. He is also trying to use his face spikes to scrape against her.

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