Bucephalus watched Gaucho with sharp eyes, a fury in their depths and a snarl on his lips. Anger, hot and thick, boiled in his chest, burned in his stomach. He had been grounded after Morrigan had tore his feathers out. He would never forget the humiliation of having to walk home, of remaining on the earth. So when Gaucho tore at his feathers, Bucephalus about lost it, only managing a sliver of control.

And that's when he took over.

The silence was shattered by Altan's gleeful laughter, and when the black looked down at Gaucho, fury replaced by mirth, it was just in time to see the fire dragons come hurtling at him. Quickly he tucked his wings, dropping beneath the fire, but the flames licked across his back, and he snapped his wings back out, teeth gritted. Oh that had hurt hurt HURT. Damn fire and damn burns and damn COLD AIR ON SAID BURNS. "Oy! Don't you know it's impolite to send fiery demons of hell at people?" He called out, flashing the Wildfire a wicked grin before quickly climbing altitude to try and keep above the dun.

Altan, for the moment, was free. And in battle. What more could he want? He threw his laughter to the air, to the wind and to the sky. His gaze flickered to Gaucho, and with another laugh he tucked wing and dove, aiming for Gaucho's head. But it was a feint, a false move, and he opened a wing enough to swerve away from Gaucho before they could collide, hopefully flying above him and his broad wings. No, his target was simpler. An eye for an eye so to speak.

As he went to fly past Gaucho, he would lash out with all four hooves trying to hit Gaucho's back, his wings folding to help add to the force. If it worked, he'd pretty much use his Sultan, his leader as a springboard to propel him back into the air, away from the dun and hopefully leaving a couple nice Altan-sized hoofprints on his back. Consider it a present.

A grin still on his face, Altan twisted in the air, wings working furiously as he tried to keep behind Gaucho, but out of range of the dun's hooves. Theoretically, Gaucho couldn't use that flaming-arc without risking hitting himself... unless he was immune. Problematic. But, nothing he wasn't prepared for. His shoulder and back protested, wept at the strain of flight, but he soothed himself with gentle words. There would be time to curl up in a ball and throw a hissy fit about the loss of his feathers(truly, that irked him most) later. For now, the game. And oh was he a late player.


Attack: 2/3
Summary: He folds his wings and drops down to avoid the dragons, but they manage to burn him across his back. He flies up, then dives down to try and hit Gaucho's back with all four hooves and hopefully using him to launch himself back to the air. Then he turns and tries to fly behind Gaucho out of the range of his hooves and hopefully his magic.

Word Count: 454 Tags: @[Gaucho]