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10-13-2014, 12:45 AM
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It was odd flying like this. He had spent quite a few hours piecing together his costume of owl feathers, and had woven the soft feathers into his own. While it made him look mismatched(soft browns against harsh black and gold), it would provide his costume and a purpose. Owls flew silently, and silence is what he would need. He tossed his head, the owl mask carved from wood disguising his face. The mask was slightly irritating, but he had sanded it down as much as he could so it wouldn't distract him during the battle. Battle. The very word had him exhilarated, eager for the sport that he had so long neglected. Nothing riled his spirits more, fighting was like flying in a typhoon; wild, unpredictable and savage. The thought of clashing with another equine sent his eyes rolling, and nostrils flaring, he could hardly contain his eagerness within his lean frame, slender legs trembling with a mix of nerves and the thrill of anticipation. Before he knew it, the fighting ground was beneath him. And far below...was his opponent. A wild, wicked grin curled the black's lips as he gained a few more feet in altitude, then tucked his wings in and plummeted, the feathers muffling, but not completely muting the piercing whistle from his falcon-like wings. His plan was simple, to dive down with just enough momentum on his opponent that he could grasp their mane in his teeth and hit them with his weight to send them to the ground. Of course, that would be in a perfect world. He had no guarantees this plan would work, the feathers could fall out or his opponent could notice his shadow. He tried his best to keep himself angled with the sun so that his shadow was cast within the shadows of the trees surrounding the meadow. But the element of surprise was his best bet, especially when a glance down revealed that his opponent was stocker than he; more low to the ground. Without hesitation, Bucephalus flung himself into a steep dive, the shrill whistle of his wings cutting through the air muffled by the owl feathers, although not completely silent. Quickly his opponent's form loomed, and he spread his wings just enough to catch the air and control his dive. He had to strike just right. Calculating his speed and the force behind it, he dumped the air out of his wings mere feet from her, wings fully outstretched. Long neck stretching out, the stallion went to sieze the base of her mane in his teeth. He had judged her weight when he saw her, and made measures accounting for it. With a sharp adjustment of wings he twisted his body above her back, angling himself so that if he could snag his teeth into her mane, he would hopefully hit her with not just the force of his dive, but all of his weight thrown behind it as well. @[Roskuld] "talk talk talk" Bucephalus
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Table by Tamme<3
Feel free to tag Buce in any posts; permission is given for force against him provided it doesn't kill or permanently maim him(ask about the latter)
