EREBOS

The fight started out as bits of nothingness, plunged into serenity instead of villainy. It was almost peaceful, dipped below snow and greenery, fine firs and withered stalks. There was no hate resting between his skull and movements. There was no wrath courting the fire of his motions. He knew naught about her, and she knew naught about him, and all he had to go on was how he yearned to be more than the boy who faltered at every turn.

She, this Alysanne, didn’t even seem to want to fight (and to the lad who’d come from mountains, from legends, from toils and terrors of the great beyond, it was strange to believe there were some who resisted the call to arms). Perhaps the owl convinced her, in the way companions swayed their bonded. Maybe she yearned for power too, down in the depths of her quiet, tranquil soul.

The bird did have an intriguing effect on Orsino, who believed the hoot to be the makings of a battle cry and sneered, grunted, and hissed, eager and ready, bristling and fervent.

Only as the femme agreed, as she consented to his skirmish request, did Erebos truly study her. They were similar in height, and he’d likely have no daunting, overbearing presence over her. The wings, however, gave him pause, because there was so much to them, all feathers and plumage, all bright, gentle-looking things, and he wondered what it would be like to fly (or ruin them, Orsino crooned, and the scion envisioned blood and feathers on the maze floor).

Then she advanced, and his ponderings were muddled and mired by the taste, the relish, of battle, where his blood surged and his mind called to calculations, to devastation, to munitions. The embers bolstered against his heart, the darkness growled along his ears, and he only had the smallest of moments to defy the strength of the winged one’s prestige.

He attempted to dodge to the right as her body rose, as her hooves flailed, but the impact along his left shoulder was a brutal, bold beast, curling and foaming along his crown as the pain ricocheted through muscle and bone. A loud gasp unwound from his lungs, and he felt the air rush, swift and keen, away from the depths of his figure; breathless and shocked, muddled and bludgeoned.

It was like he was back with Ashamin and that damn bear skull, crushing him, defying him, courting him into disaster and loss, into conquest and defeat, reminding him of nothingness and no matter how hard he tried, it didn’t matter in the end. There was always someone better, someone stronger – and oh, how he wished it could be him one day.

Orsino, plunging amongst the layers of bracken and leaves, called across their void, along the haunting, poignant memories, vile and caustic, the same as he’d always been. Go for the wings! The wings!

The boy shook his head and chose not to glance at his newfound injury. He could feel it all the same, pulsing, pervading, irritating, nettling in one long, lingering laceration, billowing with blood in a slow, steady trickle. It wasn’t his first scar, and certainly not his last - just another reminder of inadequacy and the will to overcome his deficits.

But the wings? To scar those pretty, precious quills? Erebos knew the reasoning behind it; she might be rendered incapable of flying, of fleeing, if he’d managed to injure the down, if he’d cut and slashed in just the right places. It seemed wrong. It seemed unjust. Surely, that wasn’t what this gentle one deserved.

If it were the painted Colossus, or Ashamin again, the notions and sentiments would be altogether different.

So he ignored the little infidel and his wild sibilance, advancing solely on frustration and exasperation, for the strangling, biting, gnawing rasps of pain tore at his cranium in every movement, lowering his head, intending to engage her left hind with his deadly sword. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to be pressed to sever or split her beautiful plumage. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to remember the weight of this world and his terrible collapse along its warren ever again.

[1/3. 701 words.
* As Alysanne attacks his left, Erebos attempts to dodge to the left. Alysanne’s hooves cut against his left shoulder, causing a long, bleeding laceration down the length of it.
* Erebos tries to advance towards Alysanne’s left, lowering his skull in hopes of dragging his horn somewhere along her left hind.]