The moon glows overhead, your body free from pain and hallucinations, from the grasp of the moon bitch herself, and you grow wild with excitement. Muscles, having not known pain for so long, feel fresh and free. Your mind, no longer weighed down by the task of deciphering reality from fantasy, is left with too much time to think. You need action, a puzzle, a game to keep you from going crazy in the night. Besides, you’ve tasted blood again- tasted what it means to live without risk or reason, drawing off your daughter’s explosive energy, remembering what it means to be Oxy instead of… whoever you’ve become.

Out into the wilds you go, to the beach, because the moon shines brighter there. Your muscles, already thin from the use of your drugs, have also grown weak from inactivity. You need to feel the pull of the sand as you force your body across it and the drag of gravity working against you as you fight for traction. You long for the salty ocean breeze blowing across your dirty body, the crash of the waves too close to you to ignore but too far away to taste. You need to be strong again, and the beach will make you that way, if you can get there.

Your heavy body moves at a trot across the land, hooves falling into mud from time to time, the sloshing noise as you pull them free driving you on. It’s that same suction and that same friction that you’ll feel on the beach; the anticipation is driving you wild. Onward and southward, your muscles warming even on the cool night, loosening, becoming supple and easy. Your body is too free of bruises, your mind too full of strategies yet untested. You should have brought T1, you think as you grow ever nearer the beach, to show her what you’re like when you’re in action. Still, it’s the beach, and still, you dare not bring her there. Snowflake’s wrath frightens you too much.

At long last you see it- the gentle transition from grass and dirt to sand- and you smirk, eager and ready. “FIGHT ME!” you bellow as you step onto the grains, the warm sands piling up around your pasterns. Your trot is heavier now, your limbs responding slower as you ask them to move forward. This is what you had wanted- what you needed. There is still some springiness to the ground, a remnant of the flood, but only deep below. The warm Tallsun air has dried the uppermost layers of sand, leaving the terrain as challenging as you hoped it might be.

You know, as you trot towards the churning waters, a vine of locoweed being swallowed down, that you’ll have to rely on your cunning more than anything in this fight. You will not have the luxury of speed or agility on your side, no matter who it is that responds to your call. But you have magic, your stupid boggart, and your dark coloration to hide you in the night. Most importantly, you have your training. You do not fear this unknown; rather, you relish the challenge.

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@[Hotaru]
Post| 0/3
WC| 529
OOC| Evening under a full moon on the beach. The upper layers of sand are loose, but deeper below they are still wet and springy from the floods. The temperature is mild, and a gentle breeze blows in off the ocean.
Standard 3 week timeline, teaching spar