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The General did not have a running mouth, the blue light of his eyes spoke of his intelligence, hinted at quiet thoughts. There was always a falsification on the history that had made them, who they were, and what they believed. Far as she was from being a child, her mind was endless questions, always craving for knowledge. Yet,curious as she may be about him, this point and time would be more about physical movement, the strength of muscle, and the swift ability of limbs. Was he more fluid, strong? Quicker than her? She was going to become better acquainted with his fighting strategy, and how she might better her own. In her mind one couldn't practice enough just because perfection was never attainable. Faelene, unlike most real perfectionist who did not dare try fearful of failure actually forced herself, convinced trying was a lot more succeeding than doing nothing. Staying sharp, ready, and taking on different opponents was necessary. Even if she yet to be the victor, one small step at a time she planned to continue growing, and learning. There was always something knew to learn. One with wings one day she vowed to take, but one with more experience, an ally would serve the purpose of today. The Thief had to be prepared for all sorts, and rather be as fit, at her best as she could. Faelene was sure another battle would come, and never again did she want to be forced to her knees, the enemy striking behind her at the mercy of her companions to save her. In that thought she found resolve, let it grow in her, felt it give her strength and courage to at least prove to Deimos she wasn't a woman without use.
While Faelene entered his personal space, his gray form shifted, but her horn had cut against his hind quarters. She made sure to tip her head straight when she felt it prick, not to drive it deep, or further. There was no need for major damage. Though far from her intended mark, she had not expected a dummy for a partner. Psyche had placed him in his position for great reasons, and in a real battle she was glad he did not stand on the opposing side. Even now it was hard not to be intimidated, not to think what could happen, and have a taste of fear. Her limbs continued to pull her away, feeling his own assault was about to happen. She was right, before her escape she would not slip by without pain of her own, his hooves clipped the back of her thigh, causing an instant ache, fiery and sharp. Quickly as he turned, she did the same,getting away from his attempted bite, but turning in the opposite direction. With black legs bending beneath her, she did a roll back to meet him sooner. It was a very ungraceful twirl with her new infliction twinging in her muscle, but she didn't care when she faced the black maned stallion. Faelene remained in motion, shoving from the cool ground, already setting up her next attack. She was going to try to get close again. With lips pulled back, her ears flat to her neck, she half reared, lunging toward him with her front hooves attempting to drive down, toward his left, front knee, while her neck snaked out, trying to reach his cheek or even neck with her teeth. Somewhere aware the light kept dimming above them.
[Word Count:587]
[Attack:2/3]
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Dancing with death [Deimos..Spar]
![[Image: faeleneicon.png]](http://i800.photobucket.com/albums/yy285/schwartze_asylum/faeleneicon.png)
