In that wet desert dawn, a grey expanse of varied emotion rises and falls within her breast, tumultuous and ardent, invigorating and infuriating. Fire child entered the field of battle prepared for a spar with an enthused partner, her hooves a-flutter and her heart alight. Innocent, insolent, she wore a grin to beguile her foe's frown- but that smile has been steadily wiped away, replaced first with dismay and concern, souring swiftly to irritation. Copper brow furrows as her offer of empathy is cast aside, two-toned ears falling to the tangle of her mane; she snorts at the mare whose magic reeks of purple and sparks- why won't the world be noble and just?

Then of course the vulture attacks, leaving her lost in a flurry of stray feathers and bleeding wounds. Frustration and fear play games in her mind; she wants nothing more than to make her escape, to leave this disaster and find solace in her home. This is her first fight to actually be met with a willing opponent, and the thrill and excitement she felt at its start has been squandered and spat on, left behind in the desert dust. Are all fights like this, bitter and dirty, angry and cold, spurred on by rage and regardless of honor? That her offer of empathy might embarrass poor Roskuld does not drift across the lanky child's mind. She is too close to see clearly, and in her blooming discontent Tandavi believes her foe finds her wanting, judges and deems her unworthy of a noble fight.

She does not expect her body to collide with the pink sausage creature; alto voice squeaks in high-pitched surprise and the stouter mare topples beneath Tandavi's weight. This is even more surprising. If anyone's legs were to give way and collapse, the girl would have bet on them being her own, the long limber and feathery things which so often tangled beneath her narrow frame. In hindsight, of course, it made perfect sense: the sand, the rain, and the draft mare's shoes are a horrible combination for stability.

But the moon-slashed girl is not in a mood to see sense, to look for the logic of action and result. She stumbles forward in Roskuld's wake, chest aching mildly from the force of their impact, and falls to her right knee while the other mare's teeth tear from her mane a mouthful of feathers and a smattering of hair. The ground sends a shudder upward through her bones, jolting the already injured right side. Angrily, impulsively, she scrambles back up, wincing as the hurried motion pulls at the torn flesh on her wounded right shoulder, frowning at the fresh scrapes from where her right cannon hit the ground and the unforgiving foliage therein.

Then a bright woosh of lightning rushes past her left side, leaving frizzled mane and a frazzled psyche in its wake, and the girl's eyes widen in fury and shock. The one remaining wing falls prey to the magic, and in a moment of fury she tears it away, shaking her head in a futile attempt to dislodge her mask, wishing to rid herself of this guise, to just be herself and wear her own skin.

She's done.

She is so fucking done, so over this shit; teeth grind against the bright, shallow pain of her shoulder as she backs further away from the strange, angry mare who now lays on her back, torn between running and laughter and tears.

Fire child wonders if this is victory, but if it is she does not want it.

Fire filly inspects her adversary through the misting rain, snorting a warning to the vultures who circle and caw, hungry for this promised meal. More bright sparks emerge from her coat, circling and swirling despite the damp; they drift toward the pink-wrapped mare as a promise to help; she will not be monster she sees in her heart, will not fall to anger and baser desires. Fire child won't let another fall prey to the vultures, despite the strange aggression of the bizarrely dressed stranger. Damp and irate, hurt and appalled, she channels her anger toward conviction and passion. A knight never leaves when a maiden's in need, and she would rather be felled than abandon her post.


[ @[Roskuld] | 714 words | 2/2 ( 1/1 defense ) ]
Falls onto her right knee when Ros goes down. Stands back up and decides to heal Ros and defend her from vultures, whether she likes it or not.
gg bro, this was fun <3 ]