He wasn't even sure how it had happened. One moment he was walking along all jolly and chipper to visit the shrines and give his yearly report of woe is me and give me mercy... and next thing he knows a cloud has swept in beneath his feet, hoisted him into the air and shipped him off to a very strange, very floating island in the sky. Fajira had rendered herself unable to fly in her fits of giggles as she watched him stand stock still, frozen in shock at the center of the cloud, unable to move a muscle from fear that the blasted thing might disperse, or he fall off the edge. She'd clung helplessly to his suddenly sweat-slicked hide, unable to believe how much of a wimp he was. But, as Lace would point out to her later, hitching a ride through her thoughts and actually lifting from the ground was two entirely different things, and he'd like to see her cope with being dragged around on a puff of smoke without being able to control any of it.
He was still grumpy about the whole thing and spent half the time gazing suspiciously at the talking turtle (he was quite sure there was something fishy going on here, and didn't trust any of it) but... well, the events that unfolded in the sky as winged horses of all shapes and sizes - and eventually guises - were interesting enough to catch even his attention. Lace had seen this kind of thing before, he had participated in something similar as well; he had been victorious then, able to leave with his head held high in the knowledge that he was indeed the fastest of the equines around.
He wondered, as he, urged on by the competitive white dragon, lined up behind a sprouting of dandelions, whether the years had made him slower. Perhaps he really ought to have quit while he was ahead, instead of tempting fate and attempt something that was bound to fail... but Lace had never been good at walking away from challenges. He even felt his heart race in anticipation as others fell in beside him, felt the tension increase as silence stretched out...
Ready, Set, Go!
And they were off. Lace dug the hooves deep into the ground and heaved himself forward, setting off at a lope he hoped would be enough to carry him to the front of the pack without over-pacing himself. Aiming for the first of the glistening rings he follow an impulse and dig into the ground in search for roots, long and coiling and tough; he beckon them to the surface in wooden loops, hoping that whoever comes after him will have to slow down in order not to trip and fall. The dragon chirped in delight at the prank, and with a flick of her tail in brazen challenge to a familiar paint nearby - "Kahlua playing too!" - she fell in above him, guarding his air-space as they pass through the check point.
ooc: Lace uses his wood magic to litter roots across the ground, hoping others will stumble or slow down.
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[O] :: Equine Cross Country Race ::
