To see this relic, this memory, this embodiment of what Cirrus could have been,(- had she not ventured beyond Helovia's borders with Sitka, only to return without Sitka, -) took the mare a few moments to process, to accept. They had met upon the sands of their shared home at the time, Cera decided and guided into his career already while Cirrus slumped indecisively between the art of healing or the art of war. War always wins, she thought wryly at the memory, reflecting on how her current situation wasn't that different to the last time she had seen the painted prince.

Smiles were bountiful, highly contagious, and danced upon her lips with quick and smooth ease and grace, reflecting his own joy and energy back at him. Blood rushed through her veins, speeding up in response to his playful motions. Her eyes widened with excitement, her limbs danced over and through the snows, knocking the powder over with powerful simplicity. Idly, she watched a red, furred smudge of motion move away from him over the sands, and she feels her heart ache for the hole that beats constantly against her soul. Sitka's absence would always grate on her, no less when she was faced with other bonded creatures - but she had healed enough not to resent them their bond, she had grown enough to recognise her pain and not immediately wish to reflect it on others.

Cera's words confirm what his enthusiasm has already conveyed, though the abruptness, the suddenness of his initial launch did succeed in catching her off-guard, for she had been momentarily lost in her thoughts of emptiness, loneliness, and nostalgia.

It is the instincts of a warrior with well-honed skills and expertise that allows Cirrus to rely wholly upon her body's natural reactions, as she digs deep with her hind legs and bows her low beneath the flailing feathers presented to her. She is grateful for her shorter stature in this moment, for she feels the slap of Cera's jointed, feathery appendage against her shoulder, but knows that had she been taller, and less agile, she would not have been able to duck so low, and deflect so easily, the hooves that waved at her shoulder. As it was, she felt the blow of his wing against her right shoulder, but it left nothing upon her aside from a bruise, an ache that would only really hurt if it was strained or touched on again during this spar.

Damn, she thought with a smile, he took my idea - I wanted the element of surprise!

Cirrus did not hesitate. As his wing closed down on her, she lunged with teeth outstretched, low and quick, a viper of a strike, merciless with its intentions. Given her proximity, and the snow gathered about her forelegs, she tried for whatever flesh happened to be nearest at the time - the sensitive folded skin behind his right elbow would do, or else the taut, tight skin that covered the area of his barrel just nearby, or even the elegant curve of his shoulder blade.

Having so recently destroyed all momentum and inertia to avoid Cera's assault, Cirrus pushed herself forward again with great effort and a deep grunt. She tucked her tiara in close, pulling slightly away from the golden prince before lifting it up high and throwing all her weight forward. She wanted to hit him, to knock him over, to swiftly and effectively disable him so that she could just as swiftly and effectively prove that she was the better, the fitter, the stronger.

Cirrus may be broken, she may have left a trail of ruin and destruction in her path, but she was strong, and fit, and sure of herself in a battle of physical prowess. The Earth Lord's journey had helped her heal, and grow, and choose a place to properly, finally, completely call home. She may have been born in the desert but her heart and soul yearned for the water and wind of the Falls and the people that the lands contained. Cirrus surged forward, hoping to connect her chest against Cera's right side and unbalance him, hoping, praying that the choices she had made for house and home recently would give her the strength and determination to win.