There was something unusual about Elsa’s expression. It seemed lopsided. One eye seemed... unfocused, but she just could not quite put her finger on it.

Heavy ears casually flopped left as her slim, long face tilted the same way, and Africa stood distracted from the fight - despite the determination she'd held just a split second before - and gazed at her competition with wide, curious eyes. Africa was an erratic personality, bright through reckless, and her thoughts were easily as inconsistent as her behaviour. She really couldn't help her sudden fascination with the appearance of her competition, and it smoothed away all sense like the lull of the warm spring she'd once enjoyed in the Basin. The dappled mare remained aware of Elsa to a small degree - the way she had stumbled clumsily above the confusion of whirling grey limbs, cried out when her fetlock had been clipped viciously by waving hooves, and grumbled when finally her perfect white bulk had escaped the thrashing, upside down mess enough to turn and glare.

They are so blue, she mused on absentmindedly, rolling the shoulder that had been thumped as she stood almost splay-legged, still above the spot from which she'd risen. It ached awfully, and the muscles beneath the trembling skin shuddered in protest at even the slightest movement – so too did the broken skin upon her withers sting, enough to warrant another brief moment spent static. Despite the very visible scarring across her shoulder and the horrid trials she had endured (the wing missing from a hollow socket in particular), Africa had quite a low threshold for pain and she found herself now quite unwilling to push through the raw sensation. Even as she dabbled with the idea of stepping forward, the scream through her shaken forequarters was overbearing.

Then suddenly it occurred to her - Elsa’s left eye was not blue at all. It was pearly, cloudy, blind!

The quick thinking opponent was wasting no time again. Her body was launching into another attack far quicker than the unfocused grey had foreseen. Though she was delighted to have the question surrounding the other’s physical absurdities answered at last, there seemed little chance of that enlightenment rescuing her now and Africa gasped despairingly, watching with fading glee the anger that was ripe across the pretty, pale face of the looming snowflake pegasus. Her throat choked out some nonsensical noise as the other bore toward her winged side, but Africa noticed the quiet limp as she came – an injury, and one that she could potentially now use to her advantage.

She forgot, then, about her own ailment.

With a plan forming in her mind, the Starry-Eyed was able to focus her effort finally on the task at hand. Elsa reared when it seemed she felt near enough to strike, and Africa’s powerful, unscathed haunches clenched so that she could lift in the same fashion after swivelling to meet her. There was no reckless flailing of limbs, however, on the dappled mare’s behalf – her eyes were trained on that left foreleg which had betrayed the cremello’s new weakness, and her striking hooves aimed toward it as carefully as they could.

That was not the end of her well-orchestrated assault however. I can do this, Silas!

As Elsa’s thrashing right fore-hoof grazed down the back of the grey’s left forearm and struck the elbow at the end, the nerves went numb and the thrust of the corresponding limb slackened considerably. It was not a terrible pain, more a pinching sting, although the lack of sensation was overly discomforting. In the seconds to follow, Africa endeavoured to sway the other’s balance left, to drive the rearing pegasus down upon her injured leg if she was able – toward the side from which she presumably could not see. At the same time her flaming mottled neck curled so that snapping teeth could aim at that unsuspecting side of her pallid competitor’s face.

If all went to plan, the Starry-Eyed’s body would fall right – the side which had yet to be maimed.

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Words 677
Intro (1/1)
Attack (2/3)
Defence (0/0)

@[Elsa] <3