Love or not, some emotions are simply too strong. Some recede quietly, like pride or contemplation, allowing themselves to simply exert their force in a way that isn't forceful or lively to the mind. Others however, like rage or jealousy demand attention and the mind's spotlight. But passion...Passion and desire burned with a fire all of their own. They were stoked by the very sight of the blue mare, and fed by each heavy breath drawn into the WildFire's lungs. Rationality was lost - dispersed on the breeze like each arc of fire that Gaucho sent Ampere's way. Just as those flames did not stop Ampere coming, neither would they quell the rebellion against the rational. It was all lost - Sohalia, his offspring, whatever pledges he might have implicitly made to the white mare - gone like pollen on the breeze. Gaucho wanted what he wanted, and in the moment the recklessness of what might come next seemed entirely justified. He wanted it. Wanted Ampere.

Slowly the motion of his wings became his own again, and the appendages moved easily in the air. It was just in time too, for creatures the likes of which he had only seen once came hurtling his direction. Composed out of electricity rather than flesh, the beasts appeared to be dragons. In his antlers Mara hissed fiercely. Her only interaction with dragons had ended rather poorly, when Tinek tried to throw her off of a cliff. This was something she certainly wasn't a fan of. As the creatures drew near, Gaucho, who was not normally one to retreat from battle ceased moving forward. If they were anything like the creatures he could create out of fire there would be no besting them - they were not real in the sense that they could not be intimidated or feel pain. Snorting as the sheer size of the creations became fully apparent, Gaucho stalled in the air. Pouring from his antlers came a blue/black smoke that quickly lit on fire. Two dragons of his own appeared. They were not nearly as large as those constructed by Ampere, but perhaps they would do. Gaucho didn't know what would happen when literal flames met electricity, but he wasn't about to stick around to find out.

As his creatures dove towards those of Ampere's, Gaucho leaned to the left, meaning to sharply decrease his altitude. Ampere's strategy worked a little too well perhaps, for while the dragons did succeed in stopping and distracting him, he was entirely too distracted to realize that Ampere was nearly underneath him. As his left wing curled towards his flank allowing his body to lean to the left, he felt as though the air had suddenly become stagnant and hard as his body turned. Ampere's hooves slammed against (and just behind) his left shoulder (avoiding the spiked collar he wore), while her teeth found the flesh of his cheek. Startled by the force of an impact he hadn't seen coming, Gaucho squealed in surprise more than pain as his wings fought to regain control of a dive that had turned into more of a belly flop.

Although the pain that ebbed up his shoulder was distracting, it couldn't divert Gaucho's attention from the overwhelming closeness of Ampere. He could smell her sex, and sweat, and strength, and the aroma invigorated his senses and quickened his pulse. Now that she was close he wouldn't let her get away.

His wings angled to try and force her to stay beneath him. If nothing else his constant flapping would hopefully make it difficult to fly past him given the differences in their sizes and respective wingspans. With a squeal that indicated neither pain nor exhaustion, Gaucho tried to position himself on her right side (although her backside was where he ideally wanted to be), his wings driving his muscular frame to remain as close to her as possible. His teeth sought out the skin of her wither, trying to bite the blue-black flesh as his left knee tried to press against the curve of her ribs. If he had placed himself well enough his wingspan would cover her own, likely forcing her to either roll out from under him or be guided downwards.

His tail lashed with an inflamed sexual frustration as his mind fought his primitive urge to let her slip in front of him just enough that he could grab a hold of her black hips, her tail feathers be damned. With a ragged breath that seemed to scream of his intentions, Gaucho continued to try and force the mare down. His vision swam with a current of black mane, and he could feel himself drowning in the scent of sweat and sexuality (which seemed to smell very similar).



Attack: 3/3
WC:800