Eat me up,
I'm dead inside.

Everything happened so quickly, time seemed to cease and the breath in her lungs became liquid fire as something, something hot and burning impacted her side. Bathsheba could not hold back a screech of terror, white eyes rolling in their sockets, seeking, searching for the source. Monsters, three of them, not terribly huge yet each of them crackled and spit with what could only be described as electricity, static fire arching and snapping the very air. Magic, this girl- this monster- had magic! Magic that made sound warp and water ripple with energy as they circled, circled, circled and lunged. They moved, so quickly, so swift, they berated her from all directions it seemed and all the filly could do was hunker down closer to the water. The other filly had backtracked onto a small outcropping of rock, Bathsheba eyeballed her fiercely (and terrified) from beneath a front leg. The potent aroma of tang and salt came wafting into wide, trembling nostrils, flesh shivered under every assault, bones creaked as she struggled desperately to stay upright.

They were nifty little things no doubt, they caused all kinds of havoc and the filly knew she was bleeding, probably scarred. But the longer she glared at the offending foal the more the levels of her training slid into place, the more her mind cleared as the stench of burning hair seemed to stick to the fore-front of those swollen thoughts. Her hair. Realistically there was nothing she could do to return fire, no mystical power hummed through her veins, no companion to drop down and save the day. Bathsheba was painfully alone and- she stopped, something sizzled up the front of a leg and she jerked down. (You're trapped). The creatures seemed to be re-charging, cycling around systematically and that is all the time she needed. Sialia did not focus on physical training, other than that of gaining strength in her legs, therefore battle and strategy were something her brain could not properly formulate. But they were definitely something she could wager on luck. Every part of her body resonated with the pulse of static, left clinging to the velvety skin of her hide and it hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. I hurt to even think.

Bathsheba lunged, eyes scanning the surroundings in rapid hope. Her too-long legs screeched in complaint and she pushed forward, right up close, close enough to whip that arrogant wench with the brunt of her tail. Instead she dipped down, swinging her hindquarters in close to the ground, long, black hair sweeping through the water in one single powerful thrust. The creatures swooped in for their next attack, perhaps in defense of their mistress. Bathsheba hoped with all her heart that as the water slung forward and up that one of them would hit the wave, one of them would crash into that water and electrocute the fuck out of its own master. Her own head was muddled and her ideas were a crazed mess, she would have to be one damned good strategist to get out of this without fault.



@Oizys I LOVE HER, but. I keep reading this over and over again and... please tell me if I should change the monsters' attack? It's been a stupid long time since I did any kind of battle/fighting play and I'm trying desperately to come up with something reasonable that Sheba could do in retaliation to a magic user (when she has none). So I kind of hope that an assault is what you had in mind? But please let me know if it's too powerplay-ee, because I feel like it might be and I'm just trying really hard. Poor Sheba is almost as confused as me ;-;