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Ambition is a sin. It is a thing of the greedy and the power-hungry, and yet this flickering flame in my chest is nothing but a desire to win, growing stronger with every beat of my heart.
My tail flicks his face, a hard-handed caress of whipping material on the sensitivity of the delicate soft muzzle. From the soft whistling whisper of his wings, I can tell he has dropped in altitude, and I lower my head, tipping my wings downward and gliding, remaining above him but keeping him within my sight, wary of Green disappearing into the cloud cover. Clouds are unpleasant messes of cold and water, but they are useful for cover. But today I was not in the mood for wild goose chases, and I hope we could steer clear of that sort of thing entirely. Despite this strange emotion locking hold onto me, pushing me to ever greater heights- metaphorically, not physically- I hope he didn't lose his grip on his bearings. The sky is a dangerous place, an unpredictable wildcat who leaps and growls and changes from placid to aggressive in a moment.
Swirling beneath me is the world so white and breath-taking; my wingbeats continue steadily, my body too used to flying for me to lose concentration while I multi-task, or god forbid, stop flapping my wings. The delicate exposed flesh where my feathers were plucked stings and burns at the wind rushing at it.
I do not see Green rise above me and come dropping downwards. Uttering a soft cry of surprise, I tip my left wing just as the edge of his right wing clips it, sending me spinning. Extending my wings further, I lock the muscles tightly, refusing to go spiraling madly downwards, before I enter a controlled dive, even as his upstroke comes snapping at my left wing once more, just landing a light blow on the area where the wing bone connects to my shoulder.
The wind whistles an eerie tone as I plummet, and I can see Green racing downwards. For once in the air, his lithe, thin build is at an disadvantage. Today it is a gusty day, and so my heavier body is better, being able to cut more effectively through the prevailing northern wind, rather than being gusted about. For a moment, I consider. Now that he has gained height, I will have to be very careful. Snapping open my wings will only send me shooting upwards, and perhaps even smacking into him, which, sure, would send him flailing, but would also possibly snap a wing-bone or severely bruise my back.
Diving is always a delicate business. Nothing can compare to the thrill of its speed, even when your wings ache and burn to open against the pressure.
I flare open my wings, slowing downwards. Considering the fact he is trying to come even with me, I hope his reaction time will be slower. I tip my right wing, pushing over to the side, praying that I will smash in his hip with my own side, and hopefully my wing coming over his hindquarters, if he is vertical.
Assuming he is now pulled out of his dive- should Green be- I will try to drop behind him and give a savage tug at his tail, hopefully avoiding pulling out any strands of hair.
Oh the excitement! Truly this is wonderful. Nothing can even compare to the joy of a flight on a blue-sky day, let alone forgetting worries in the heave and pull of muscle and sinew, tendon and bone, where anything can happen, and any underdog can fight his or her way to the top. Today, I think, there is no underdog- we are too evenly matched, Green and I.
WC: 626
Post: 3/3
Summary: Sorry for the lateness! So. His right wing clips her left wing, sending her spinning, and assuming she was hit on a downstroke, the upstroke smacks her underneath her wing. She enters a dive before him and is stuck beneath him, and decides to open up her wings, and tip to the right. [Assuming] he is still in vertical descent, she hopes to catch him in the hip with her hindquarters/flank area. Once more she dives and hopes to grab onto his tail.
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[JUDGED] Into the Fire [Andromeda]
