there is a sudden peal of noise not alike the thunder that has been ripping apart the heavens. Even Ricochet flinches at the sound while Guns continues to slink about, tail tucked firmly between his legs. It takes a moment for him to see her, and when he does he registers that the sound came from her and that words accompanied it. Confused and annoyed his ears fall back while his mind gropes to make sense of the harpy screech she delivered.

"Who the fuck are you?" he retorts impatiently, tail slapping across his flanks as they turn dark with the rain. It falls steadily and he must squint to see her across the haze of water. He has little time to spare and certainly none on crazy mares gallivanting around in a storm. One harsh snarl from Guns quickly answers his question however, setting the dunskin on edge immediately.

Muscles ripple under a thin hide as the Incendiary stiffens and sinks onto his haunches. His ears lace back further, the continued growls from Guns now accentuated with sharp snapping as he lunges at the air, hackles bristling with spite. A normally well-mannered dog, few have earned such a response from him and it makes Ricochet's blood churn with unease.

"Why did you attack?" he demanded, caution setting him steady. He can see the whites around her eyes and she smells, wrong. What's more, with rain like this the dust he so preciously depends upon is rapidly fading. He's fit however - she will turn to dust herself beneath his might, should it come to that. When it comes to that, rather.

Her answer came, though it was unexpected. The name Isilme had the boy buckle in despair while the name Omega left a hint of familiarity on the back of his mind. He had met her mother before; he could barely recall it as he'd still hugged Gunslinger's side, but the mare had been a devilish beast that much he could recall. It was really no surprise then this was her spawn, but she he'd never met and that was all that truly mattered here.

Although a small part of him relented, finding brethren in this Isilme native.

She goaded them on and gave an impressive display of her prowess as her hoof scarred the earth. Ricochet was all to aware she was physically capable; her body was well traced with muscle that much he could see. He hesitated still, recognizing something else in her, something mad. Whenever facing an opponent that has lost their grip on reality it becomes an entirely different battle. She probably does not register pain the same way he does. She likely lacks an empathy or sense of self-control.

If he ignites this battle, he has to go in with all he's got. Ricochet doesn't think she'll let him out a live if she comes out victorious - all the better reason not to lose.

He grins a wicked grin as the storm rises around them. The rain falls with gentle plops that coat his back and wet the ground. Not too wet he knows, a forehoof dragging back nonchalantly, as if changing position. Beneath the top layer the dry dirt blares with it bright color, though the rain soon quenches it with the rest.

"No, just stupid," he remarks as she laughs off the dog's attack. Ricochet simpers, though his amusement is drawn from a different source. "Round up," Ricochet breaths the command towards his dog. The snarling collie flicks an ear and then he's off, belly fur barely skipping over the ground as he flies like a lively shadow.

Paws trace marks in the dirt and grab hold better than Ricochet's hooves could ever hope to at the extreme speed and angles the dog runs at. Guns has began to run circles around the mare, keeping just far enough away to stay out of kicking range. Golden eyes watch her carefully as the dog works. With each loop the dirt is worn further down, the fresh stuff shown beneath. Ricochet whistles as the bitch shouts at the wind. Guns breaks hard right and the ground detonates.

The earthy dust had shifted to glittery black powder with each passing of the dog's paws. Every round kicked some dust into the air, and flung up some of the powder, though it fell back down much faster, and the rain didn't let even the dust rise too high. Unfortunate conditions, but Ricochet didn't need much more than a distraction.

The creme body plunged towards here just heartbeats after the loud pops and searing flame crackled from the ground. His teeth were peeled beneath scarred lips, aiming to pull blood from her little nose. His fore hooves slammed down in a hard, stiff movement that intended to rake the skin off the front of her forelimbs, or primarily her right limb. And through it all he didn't stop charging, his powderful haunches providing a great force of momentum which he would use as a physical ram to try and bull into her, likely knocking off her balance.

Under his breath he hissed the formal initiation his father had taught him. Never let your foe pass on without knowing you you are, it's just respectful.
"Ricochet the Incendiary - and Guns - you'll die now."

A whump of air passed from Ricochet's windpipe as her knees dug into his chest, his barrel safe from the position he'd driven at had nearly been head first - ever reckless as Gunslinger said. At least it was a more cushioned spot to take the blow, though it hurt all the same and the force pushed him back a bit. It was enough to make him begin to retreat back to the earth, narrowly missing the clap of her teeth against his ear as she took off grime, perhaps even a tick. How kind of her to groom him when he tried to kill her.

He spun away to his left, teal eyes burning into her as she laughed in his face. Her legs were raw and she thought it was funny? Wary, his ears pressed back, features twisting into a warning as his teeth pinched the air as it it was her eye.

She had reason to cackle.

The greatest fire his angry gaze could start was nothing compared to the sizzling roar that lept up in sporadic shrubs around them. Even that was half of a kitten's mew once he felt the driving teeth of the rain against his hide. The hairs grew black and crinkled into themselves just before ceasing to exist and parting to reveal his dark, weak skin beneath. Steam rose from his back just as a scream tore from his throat.

His body flinched instantly, haunches buckling as he backed up onto them, confusion and terror creating a deadly mix within the volatile stallion. His rage set the dust around him smoking, but it was too wet to manage much and either way it was no salve for the burning intensity along his spine and against his ears. Uselessly he shook his neck and rubbed his head against a foreleg, but it only seemed to spread the ache. With eyes pinched to keep out the worst and feet moving blindly, Ricochet had little sense that she was driving towards him.

Guns came barreling in with a ferocious growl and a clacking bark that deafened like gun fire. The dog's fur kept the worst of the burn out, at least for now, where as the thin coat of Ricochet's peeled off like paper. Yellow teeth flashed in black gums as the canine struck like a snake at the mare's feet. With a body low to the ground and more agile than a horse, Guns was more able to weave in and out by the time it would take her to think of kicking. It was a dangerous game to be sure though - all she would need is luck.

The noise alerted Ricochet, his body whirling and firing out an aimless buck towards her even as he cursed her under his breathe. The initial response of puzzlement had faded; what seemed at first unnatural weather or the likes of bugs was seen to be the witch's tricks, her laughter like a peal of thunder in this wicked storm. He could not tolerate this acidic drenching much longer and figured hurting her would make it stop. Killing her would be the best bet of course.

As back feet tucked back to the ground they bore streaks of red where her hooves meant for his front end had peeled away some hair and hide, further made angry as stray drops of biting rain coated it. Haunches quivered as they bore his weight, Ricochet rolling back neatly on them so that he faced her again. Through the dim haze of his lashes he could see the blur of her frame, though he listened to her breathing, the sizzle of rain on her backside (how did she not ignite alongside him?) and the squelch of hooves in growing mud to lead him. Forward he struck out, teeth leading the charge towards her pretty little nose before his strong hind quarters popped him up in a rear. Ricochet lifted his fore hooves to bash in her head which she likely would have flung away from his teeth and into his aim. The mud was slick but it was thick and bore his weight well, though his haunches shook with the act of balancing.

"Crazy bitch!" he screamed, his pain as continuous as the falling of the rain around them. With each second it burrowed deeper and his hatred wore down like a whittled stick into a nub of anger and awe.

He turned faster than she, his body more stout and muscled and experience granting him the swiftness her madness did not. Her hooves but barely clipped him, a warning instead of a bite.

Her laughter made everything worse. It run like a sickening song in the back of his ears, grating on his senses and his sanity. He grit his teeth even harder, more content to shove his lower jaw of his face than to continue the torture of her giggles while they both melted into heaps of ash. He could not understand this mare, was marginally afraid to understand her better even, but with each swing of their hooves his interest in her grew. Though her dead body would be just as fine a prize, perhaps she was exactly what he needed after all, alive.

Could he contain something like her though? Would she bow, even a little, to the ideals bolstering in his heart? Ricochet was made of fire and dust, and though he often lacked little sense and tact, purpose drove the pull of his trigger. He was beginning to wonder if this mare even had a trigger or if she just fired at random. Guns you could wield, rain you could only shelter from.

Yet perhaps, just perhaps, he could learn a rain dance.

He had not yet another so fierce, so willed, so perfectly equine.

She stormed after him, a tempest in nature rather than beast, even when he charged for her. Guns kept far from their fray now, wary of rain that had sunk deep enough to burn even his coat.

Her hooves clattered on his hind ones, bruising the tender region there. That pain was not even felt under the rivers of fire the acid rain carved into him, his backside now a raw red that had some blisters starting to form. More and more dragon fire seemed more lovely than this.

When he reared she ducked and her shoulder took his blow. She shoved against him, but his haunches held, though they quivered to maintain balance. Stallions were certainly more practiced at the rear than mares. He expected she might charge when her head snaked down, so he slammed forcefully down and let himself lend his forehand onto her body, balanced as much on her as himself now. He meant to hug his neck around hers, teeth still snapping though it was likely they'd only find air at this angle - the sound should be warning enough for her to keep her head safe at least. It was only their closeness that saved him in the end though. Had she more distance to give her shove greater force he would have fallen, but luck as often as skill seemed to matter in this tussles.

Eventually tiring of their pushing war Ricochet lurched to the left, thudding back to the ground hard and solid. He did not linger long near her but stepped to the side, ears flat and teeth bared, hip ready to lash a kick in her side should she be made enough to throw herself back into him.

"You fight like a devil mare!" he shouted at her, his tones still scathing but it was praise he offered. He snorted, shaking the acid from his face as the burn distracted him and threatened his eyes. He could feel it coming down less however and knew if he could hold out just long enough, maybe he could earn some time of sense with this witch. "I'd expect nothing less..."

Like a wounded animal she fought with every ounce of her being, teeth grazing him twice before he was finally disentangled from her, limbs just barely missing the additional clobbering of her hooves.

She spun around to face him, teeth still gritted and eyes still burning, but the rain relented and for that Ricochet could have nuzzled her in gratitude. He felt a shudder of relief roll through him as the downpour ceased, though the itching nip along all his wounds continued as the acid already staining him proceeded to burrow.

He thrashed his tail in the writhing agony, determined not to let it foul his voice or weaken his stance. Her question was ripe enough with arrogant ferocity that for a brief moment he forgot his hurts and grinned in response, enthralled with her in a way he'd never before been. "You are crazy, you know that," he shouted back to her, a hint of giddy laughter in his tones. "A shame you squander such talent on trivial things like dogs when you could be decimating more worthwhile opponents like unicorns and pegasus. Your rain would burn the birds from the skies and melt the horned wretches into molten puddles. That would be a world worth living in, even if the ground turns crimson and is scorched."

The insanity of this all was setting Ricochet's mind in a whirl while a strange euphoria was filling him up as the pain nagged him to the point of an extreme. "Why rain fire when you could pour blood into the seas?" He laughed, tossing his head like a playful colt as he let hooves stomp and squelch into the mud. Perhaps insanity is contagious and her magic had infected him...

The pitiful whine of the collie was setting his ears to ring and it seemed to remind him of the own severity of his wounds which would need tending. Maniac as he was he had a shred more sanity than she and would not stand to rot out here with her acid snapping at his backside.
"I'll be seeing you again, Histe." Ricochet whispered, the sound almost lost to the weather, before turning on his haunches and slipping into the storm, his dog crawling at his heels.