No Time for Lies and Empty Fights
The copper giant was succumbing quickly to the onslaught of weariness. Although he was a creature primed for war, body ripe with maturity, experience, all clad in glossy confidence, Hector relied largely on swift, deciding impact. He had not the endurance for long, drawn out clashes and the fluctuating exertion of energy necessary for their victory (not to mention the contributing lack of practice in recent times); and as the flashy hybrid mare behind him squealed her pain, relief flushed instantly through his strained features.
The grit trapped beneath fastened lashes rubbed painfully against rolling, water-slick eyeballs, and each time he dared open them, more sand seeped away in saline channels from the enflamed corners of his eyes. His vision was slowly clearing, and the hazy, speckled glaze across them began to lessen. At the same time, as Hector’s airborne, assailing hocks swung to align his spine more naturally with his neck, vertebrae beneath the pained arch of his crest clunked angrily. The taught muscles battered through his attempted evasion of the sand loosened, and the copper stallion groaned as the true effect of her knock stung, burned beneath the force of his bold repositioning.
Thrust hind-hooves felt the impact of their strike against brawn- Hector could not tell right away what part of her exactly had been found during the vengeful buck, but the sound of her protest assured him that it was a sound connection nonetheless. So too did he remain completely oblivious to the rising grin which had so very visibly cloaked her haughty lips; only to be wiped clean from her expression almost as suddenly.
As his hindquarters fell back to their natural posture, the stallion’s powerful shoulders lunged to pull his heavy bulk forward so as not to allow her the same advantage as before; not again...
She was following it seemed however, tolerating the weeping wound he had dealt with more pluck than most other females he knew, and Hector was given little time to escape the lash of beared teeth; crest snaking out beneath a flurry of dark mane to scold him. Already stiffening as lactic acid leaked throughout, his trampled neck could not turn enough for him to find her with both bleary eyes in time. Hector could hardly evade the swift-footed, vicious hybrid, and before he knew it, his retreating rump bore a sliver of her affection; a stinging bruise placed by the graze of her unforgiving teeth.
Again his displeasure pierced the air surrounding; a sharp snort in place of the scream building to burst from his pumping lungs. Hector would not show his opponent weakness however, he forced composure to gloss across the flare of irritation- and he knew anyway, thank the Sun, that this fight had come to an end. Bruised and considerably (unexpectedly) battered, Hector loped awkwardly from the churned mess of sand across which they had fought, and turned, flanks heaving to betray his exertion. "You don’t fight like a woman..." he complimented, with a smile harassed still by deep gasps for lost air. Finally he could see the blood staining her neck. But you are no stallion, he thought all the same.
529/800
Attack 3/3
Defence 1/1
(ooc: Wow Silk, good spar! I really love Arvakl’s spunk hahaha)
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[JUDGED] The Decider (Hector x Arvakl)
