Heat.

Heat became tangible on that day. My roan skin oozed Tallsun sweat, a mirage warping the air around my shoulders, radiating from the feathers of my wings. The darker blotches around my legs and shoulders, like a sponge, drank the sweet humidity. The skies above me felt compressed as dark clouds accumulated, closing up the freedom of a clear, open world. I didn’t pick the perfect day for this, but the way this day was would make me stronger. It would make us stronger.

The Throat needed my best defense. This wasn’t what my extremely tall, lean body was built for, but the addition of new muscle that I’d trained in my wings for weeks was something that could change the expression on the face of brewing war. I was ready for this, walking rather than taking flight to the Heart; stretching my lengthy, pale legs over the cluttered gemstones, putting great effort in the depth of my breathing, the looseness of my body showing relaxation dominant in my expression. My hazel eyes were intense, glittering gold, reflecting the high lapping flames blurred together by the seamless smudges of black smoke and clear mirage. The footing here was hot on my feet, much more sultry than the red sands of home. But I would be better used to the darkening air, so I brushed my feathers to the sky and took the skies like storm.

I would be easily seen in the sky, only chasing altitude high enough to see the heart from above. I sought my target, lean and black. I could tell he was shorter than me from the skies, finding the grass a good measurer. It rippled around him, touching the tips of his pale feathers, they seemed to glow green at the tips as the light around us began to succumb to nightfall and rainfall. In the sky, warm mist fused with the sweat of my coat as I dove upon him, tilting my own pale wings downward, and increasing speed with a dangerous smack of my primal feathers against the wind. I approached him from the side, finding his shoulder in the range of his wing a tactical place to collide, my warm bay chest against his hot black wing joint. I wanted to come down hard, knock him over on his forehand; he’d be vulnerable and unbalanced there. So with a flick of my position upon impact, I angled my tail outward and stiffened my knees, bracing the fall with lean legs planning that if my legs needed to touch the ground, they would briefly.

I’d be low to the ground, so as soon as the collision occurred, hit or not, I’d skyrocket back up into the sky – if I knocked him over that is, if not, this would no longer be an aerial move.

ooc; 472 words -- opening attack 1/3