At the stallion's cry of fear, an uncharacteristically sadistic smile pulled at the mare's lips. Good. Let him fear her. You didn't trifle with her friends without consequences. Aryel did not seem to notice her heightened bloodlust. Whether it was the thrill of the fight or her own fire magic adversely affecting her mind was of no concern. What mattered was making this arrogant, highborn bastard squeal. With a sickening lurch, her flames seemed to pull away from her body, flickering into nonexistence. Somewhere unknown to the two, in another world, they were burped into thin air, startling a blue roan winged stallion and a bay mare adorned with glass horns out of their fight. Back in this world, Aryel reflected that the entire encounter had been full of unpleasant feelings. First, that terrifying feeling of loosing control over herself. Then, the stallion's narcotic magic briefly working on her, and finally, the sensation of having her flames sucked away. She liked to think she was repaying him for it, though. She certainly felt at least one blow connect with his chest.

She noticed his eyes straying to her wing, but before she could retract them he had snapped successfully at her right wing. However, if he had been trying to injure her, he hadn't entirely accomplished that. Her wing muscles did not extend all the way down her wings, in fact, they stopped soon after her "wrist" joint, where the ulna bone was located. These were not the leathery, draconian wings of her sire and half-brother, magnificent and clawed but laced with nerves and blood vessels. He did, however, pull out a couple of primaries, causing her to yelp. Feathers fell out naturally, but yanking them out so roughly would result in a few drops of blood and a stinging feeling. She took a moment to examine the damage, glaring at the stallion as she reflected that her flight would be affected until her feathers grew back. And he did really have to pull out two of the silver-marked ones? Those were her favorite, as foolish as it sounded.

She made to pursue him as he turned to flee, until a memory from a fight with Gaucho surfaced. He had pulled the same trick, running away only to present a view of large, flailing hooves. She backpedaled and turned her face to the side, but felt his hooves scrape her left cheek. It was better than taking a blow to the nose, though. She had had enough of that with Gaucho, to be sure. She found herself wondering if the tactics used by the two of them in their spars could be of any use here. Kicking snow into his face wouldn't do any good, he was fleeing. Pulling off impressive acrobatic feats was useless unless he grew a pair of wings (and a pair of balls, since he so obviously lacked them). The thought did give her an idea, though. She dug deep into her reserves of stamina, fighting off the fatigue that had begun to creep in. She chased after him again, but this time her wings were thrashing the air, bearing her aloft with a powerful jump. Her wings stirred the snow into flurries, a contingent of formless snow specters to flank her. Aryel wasn't strong, but she was quick. The lack of her primaries showed, leaving her tilted to the right. However, it was a straight, quick flight with no turning required. She gained altitude as she pursued him, counting on his exhaustion to slow him enough for her plan to work. When she was over him so that her shadow fell over his, giving him ghostly black wings of his own, she folded her wings and dived, holding her limbs out straight. Her intent was to strike him from above, using her weight to inflict damage on his back or rump. She was small, yes, but a slightly-larger-than-pony-sized mass of flesh, bones, and feathers dropping on one's back had to hurt. She also knew keeping up while she fell would be difficult, but she was not far above him, only a matter of feet, and was hoping her velocity would keep her form above his. At the same time, she was watching him carefully, ready to spread her wings to break her fall should he move. If he did veer away, she would have a rough but successful landing and immediately turn to face him.

(OOC: Genderbent dimension mentioned because it's 11 PM and that doesn't mix well with caffeinated Coke YAY. At least it seems to be good for my muse.
Words: 740
Posts: 4/4
Magic/Companion: 2/2
Amulets: 1/1
Summary: D'art's magic succeeds, and his bite takes two primary feathers. She tries to chase after him, and takes a hoof brushing to the left cheek. She goes after him again, jumping into the air to pursue him by wing. When she is above him, she drops, intending to drop her hooves, and her body weight behind them, onto his back or rump, and is prepared to land if she misses.
Injuries: Shoulder bruising, wing bite, crest bite, lost feathers, cheek bruise/scrape)

Walk walk walk walk.
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