It was the third and final round...

Sand whirled through the air as sharp hooves sliced through soft floor of the arena. The stallions appeared to be dancing- to the rhythm of war the Starry-Eyed thought as she watched eagerly, excited to learn the outcome after nearly two hours since the respectful spar had begun. Their forelegs were tangled, locked together; bodies twirling and twisting, long lashing hair whipping violently as the high-island wind caressed them. The air was filled with the thick stench of testosterone, sweat drawn across their glossy coats in heavy, staining sheets as the glorious afternoon sun beat down- it was intoxicating, thrilling; so too did their panting and grunts echo wildly through the bustling village.

When at last the smaller stallion stood as the winner- skull lifted and victorious neigh thrown to the blue, the small group of spectators which had gathered around began to disperse. Africa stayed a moment longer, revelling in the atmosphere, admiring each marvellous example of strength and prowess as he stood dripping in the toils of his own ambition.

She had sparred only once before and battled truly, one occasion before that. Both had been fruitless endeavours, and the latter was a bitter scar upon her mind which just recently, had begun finally to numb. The fervour today though struck her like an iron post, she was giddy, grinning away with hopeless ambition; and although she had not been a competitor herself, adrenaline had contaminated her lowly bloodstream, fuelling some ridiculous fantasy that she might even be as skilled as them! Bright, sunlit eyes turned as the arena emptied, searching for any that loitered with her; sizing up unsuspecting passers-by like she had a clue.

Soh and I were going to test our skills anyway... she insisted, noting as her face wandered back towards him, the star-spangled zephyr shaking his head. He was not by any means won over by her plea. Of late, Silas had noted the return of recklessness to her behaviour; unpredictability that he knew stemmed from the confusion in her grappling heart. He could only wonder if it was similar unsteadiness that had led her astray so far to the north all those many years ago. Indeed, he answered her through thought, eyeballing her soft (though eager), expression with one stern violet eye.

As Africa dillydallied (just another sign of her martial inexperience), another steed stepped into the sand- someone who was startlingly larger, wielding a set of two frightfully sharp looking horns, with an intimidating glint in his eye that caused her instantly to shrink away back to the path flanking his stage. But I think I might look elsewhere for a partner... she assured her friend quickly, severing feeble eyes from the stallion’s domineering gaze, and hastening with a low tail right in the opposite direction. Silas trailed her quietly through the air, and his calm smugness filled both of their minds. It was not enough to dampen Africa’s enthusiasm though.

The grainy path soon gave way to lush, green pasture and the one-winged mare saw ahead of her another Pegasus, still whiter than Frostfall’s first snow. It became apparent though the nearer she drew, that the stranger (her face; those haunting blue eyes, she was not familiar at all), was tinged blue- almost like Silas’s subtle purple sheen. Recalling the ferocious introduction between the two males before, Africa curled her flaming crest dramatically and threw her long skull to the side, snorting, smiling playfully and unavoidably all the while. “Want to spar?” she called, trying in vain to ditch her natural diffidence and portray instead an opponent perhaps worth the other mare’s time.

Silas’ sharp eyes rolled as he circled above.

---

Setting: The meadow skirting the village on Sky Island. It is a clear day.
Magic allowed/No companions

Words 619
Intro (1/1)
Attack (0/3)
Defence (0/0)

(ooc: I know you wanted me to start, but I had to set Africa up ic)