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 Seasonal Spars… The sun has climbed into the center of the sky, it’s heat making the stubborn snow crackle and melt under the unbroken orange glow. It’s time to go. She shoves off of her idle position amongst the hillocks, she’d been watching from a perch near the caves; collecting her thoughts before the fight. Her bird weaves several feet above her as she settles into a brisk jog, her eyes set on the path ahead, muddy and sloshed with ice, snow and cold moisture. Her coat is shaggy and half-fallen out, the soft curve of her muscles hides under the various patches of long winter fur that is no longer necessary. To the unknowing eye she appears like a tallish, pudgy pony unicorn – in reality she is of mixed ruffian blood. The Viking unicorns, you could say (I like to say it, anyway). No ponies, only unicorns; ruthless, blood-born warriors. Tangere rather enjoys the camouflage of looking shabby and tired. In reality she is a fairly fine-tuned athlete beneath the chameleon appearance. This is her first fight in Helovia though she has had many in her life before. She is no hero of combat, but she is not that bad either. In the culture of her ancestors fighting is as natural as keeping yourself fed. You just cannot live without the skill, in their opinion. She’s rather disappointed that she is completely armor-less for her spar today, but soon she’ll see that her opponent is as well and the notion will not be such a disadvantage as she thinks. She moves passed the quiet, flat lake, its water glittering like chrome under the bright lights of midday. She stops to admire the stillness for a moment, Phrixus circles back with a harassing caw before setting his course toward the evergreens and their maze thickets. She continues on without argument, toward where the pale raven has disappeared ahead. When she arrives at the clearing her companion has found a branch to cling his long pinkish claws around, watching Tangere’s opponent with his beady frozen ocean eyes. Tangere is smiling, a genuine, joyous grin spread hungrily across her mottled rosy lips. She peels her body out of the shadows, branches grabbing at her shedding coat, holding the silver and white hairs as she slides by like a reptile casting off its old scales for new. Her heart-beat quickens, she can feel it in her chest as if it is bouncing around in a hollow chamber about to break from its fleshy cage. She does not feel this often, this animalistic urge, the craving to mount and slam the other body…the desire to dominate with little relent. Her smile melts into a smirk, her eyes eating up the gaze of Solanine, her dark, shallow stare held nothing – Tangere’s is the opposite, holding a map of her world inside each glassy mocha eye, squinting them with primal delight as she read the other mare’s body. She will be swift if she has any skill at all, she is a thin boned girl; quick like the wind, she assumes, sharp too…maybe. She doesn’t take more than a few seconds to size the mare up, by now she has paused facing her; the silver unicorn’s posture is tall and stiff, her ears perked aggressively forward with her nostrils displaying the same sort of energetic interest. She does not match Solanine’s impatient dance, instead she slashes her thin silky tail across each hip, striking a forefoot to the soft unfrozen earth. Her eye contact does not waver, her body tenses all over; it is a language all equine know. Her neck ripples with the tightness woven through each muscle, her hips and shoulders match its sinewy display. She is fit from all the travel she is always doing, the constant running, jumping, climbing and searching down the next herbal discovery. She thanks herself now for her addiction to her studies. She dips her short, big cheeked face with a slow nod; slicing through the suggestive cord holding them back from one other. Tangere rears back, she’s lightening quick, her opportunity to whack her heavy, well-worn hooves into the girl’s long fragile face is presented so easily – too easily, she does not take the bait and instead lets the attack come very close to purchase before dipping to the left and pivoting on a front foot. She has bluffed a frontal attack and instead circles back with her mouth agape, strands of glistening drool string from her eager mouth as it plunges for flesh. She has spun herself (or has attempted to, at the very least) to be shoulder to shoulder with the black mare, reaching with dull, yellowed teeth to clamp mercilessly onto the mare’s ear. If it is not the ear she can grab she will not go for anything else, she will only slash with hammering blows from her front feet, aiming for the mare’s face and perfectly craned little neck. If her mouth happens to find its intended target, the tender ear of the other fighter, she will pull it down toward the ground as far as she can with all of her weight solidifying in her front shoulders – she will try and drag her opponent down, her feet trying their best to strike where and when they could in her attempts to keep the mare from rising to her feet if she were to rip her ear free. While they scuffle the pines look on, their needles bristle in the slight breeze, their roots peacefully sucking in the water that has finally thawed and trickles down into the soil below. It is such a natural thing that is happening in the muddy clearing surrounded by deep greens and murky browns of dirty snow. The mare’s wrestle, they’re opponents and team mates all in the same motion. The white feathered, blue eyed raven is hidden amongst the skeletons of the tall trees; watching them. [Summary: Tangere faked a lunge and has turned around to grab Solanine’s ear, a sensitive place on a horse, and attempts to put her on the ground for the first round. Unless she happens to miss the ear and then in that case she will simply ‘bicycle’ Solanine’s face with her front feet(: Attacks: 1/3 EDIT: To clarify the bicycle to the face thing - it was merely a comparison. When horses tussle, though i've only seen them playing (in person), they do a lot with their front limbs when they are in action...that is all i meant. If her efforts to grab the ear fail she will lean back and swing her front legs, like the action of a slow motion bicyclist. And the attack would be aimed at her face/skull. Hope that clears things up! Sorry, haven't done this in a while <3 AND THE DOVE OF HOPE BEGINS ITS DOWNWARD SLOPE... |
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