In a flash of sky-fire Seanan has a sillouhette of his opponent, half crumpled to the earth and yet too large to overrun.  A thill of triumph flares in his chest and explodes into a stallion's squeal.  It is nearly involuntary, a vocal expression of the singing in his bones.  It is not like he is trying to be stealthy as he throws himself into the face of his opponent.  In the lapse of quiet between breaths of thunder, he hears a queers crack.

Then like a tidal wave, a force of nature himself, the dark behemoth rushes up and towards him, eyes blazing.  Seanan tries to jerk back but it is like fighting beneath a waterfall.  His hooves scramble and churn the earth as he backs up to avoid the snapping teeth but he is not quick to dodge in such close quarters.  He feels the scrap of hard ivories tearing the thin skin over the bones of his cheek below the left eye and he throws his head up and away in a desperate jerk.  The wound is fire and agony though he did not at first think it was so bad.  

Not even the rain can cover the sudden stench of sickness so close to his sensitive nostrils.

Again and again the brute's snaps find purchase, now on the right side of his exposed neck as he tries to curve the injured side of his head away.  He bleeds from half a dozen wounds though none as agonizing as the one on his face that soon begins to swell.  The inflamed flesh begins to force the eye closed, obscuring his vision already compromised be darkness and rain.  It is not natural and somewhere in the back of his rational brain he wonders if this is something like the magic that threw up walls in his path in other, more friendly spars.  Is this similar, this insidious, subtle thing?

Then he knows where he has seen something that he thinks would feel like this.  Black and rotting skin sloughing off the dying body of a horse, sprawled in agony on golden sands.  Nearby, the dead body of the dragon-winged pegasus who would have made off with her child.  It's fangs still leaked venom, though the head was smashed to pulp by the enraged hooves of the herd stallion.  He was young then.

He has not been a child in many years.

Blood runs black on the ghostly paleness of his hide, matting the thin, opalescent fur until he looks partly a creature of darkness himself, as if the demon's corruption has spread to the white wraith and begun to corrupt his corporeal form.  Fingers of fire- no, acid feel as though they stretch into his veins from the wounds, burning and eating away at the flesh.  There is no time for thought.  This is not a playful bout in a brightly sunlit meadow where he can easily pick and choose his actions, trying to hold back and not savagely injure his play partner.  This is primal and all he can act on is instinct as he screams his anger and throws his body up and forward.  His hind hooves find brief purchase cutting into the muddy ground and he lashes out with both front hooves in the direction the gnashing, cutting, burning teeth came from.  

As gravity drags him down he lashes out blindly with his teeth for poll or ear or blazing red eyes.  He no longer cares that this may leave him open- such concerns are beyond him now, lost in pain and anger and blood lust andthe lingering taste of triumph buoying him.

OOC:// @Volterra
620 Words
3/3 attacks 0/1 closing defense

I would love to do an aftermath thread or something if you're up to it, once this finished up XD The rolls have been so weird!