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Her wing pounded down, brushing against the steed as she scrambled to regain her balance again. The pain from her hip caused her eyes to blur their focus - but it did nothing to stop her from recognising the blurred outline of her beloved, her soulmate, her deceased other half. Breath disappeared from her lungs - and it wasn't yet from the boggart's other magic - as she stumbled toward the figure, head low, feet dragging, an indescribable paralysis overtaking her.

Sitka… her thoughts reached out to the figure, her mind hopelessly entrenched in its desire to find his, her broken soul singing its fractured tune across the aether. It was perhaps the most crippling thing her opponent could have one to her, to completely enthral her with an imitation of her lost Sitka - and then to torture him before her eyes. As her vision cleared, she saw the unnatural position of the hellhound's body, heard the way it whimpered and - she realised with a horrified gasp - watched as its lifeforce faded before her.

No! she cried to him, she called and reached out with all her energy, scrambling forward on lame and sore limbs, trembling knees threatening to bend and collapse. But no reply came, she felt nothing but the vacant space that was her fractured soul, the deep and dark abyss that only absorbed all her attempts of contact with the pseudo-Sitka. Recognition of the fraud came, and it recognition's wake, came a fury. She lifted her tiara, tearing her refocussed gaze away from the phantom, pinning it upon the steed who was responsible for this grievous insult.
__

The motion of throwing the spear as hard as she did gave its own glorious aftermath to the sky-mare. As her nape stretched and bent to the side, the tear on her shoulder did too - she winced as she felt the edges of the slice tear even further, jagged and ripped, not clean like the initial insult Hector bestowed. Water rained down upon her pelt, and it encouraged the cut to bleed even more prolifically, to run and stain her right leg a dark, dismal black. It felt like boiling liquid compared to the chilly breeze and rain, and once again she found her vision blurring further in the already poor visibility. A muffled roar resounded from the direction her spear had been thrown towards, and the girl blinked against the pain in vicious delight.

She wasn't expecting what came next. In fact, she had been prepared to laugh in her victory and throw mocking insults at the brute.

But her laughter was cut off - choked off. She thought it initially to be a side-effect of exhaustion, that she had ridden on the high of adrenalin for too long and was suffering from the chronic decline - but it was too sudden, too harsh, and it didn't stop. The foggy, rainy mare tried to suck a breath in, but was unable to - and it horrified her. Never before had something like this happened, never before had her own lungs failed her. Eyes bugged out of her head, and if she could see her own tongue it was have the tinges of blue and purple veins running along its edges. She was barely aware of her knees buckling, shaking and crumbling beneath the weight of her wings and shoulders, he head and neck - she barely felt the thump as her muzzle smacked against the muddy loam beneath.

A moment before her eyes clouded over with complete darkness, the oxygen flooded her body again, and she coughed and spluttered in the relief of being able to breathe again, to live again. Lifting her crown, she realised where she was - lying, with an aching muzzle and hip, a burning shoulder and eyes blinking dumbly as they took their sweet time to finally focus on the large, hulking mass of Hector.


[ OOC :: Just a note to say the wing pounding down in paragraph 1 is a mere repeat description of her previous post, not a new attack. And the __ double break is basically where she initiates her rain magic and throws the spear (her last attack). C:

656 Words
3/3 attack posts
1/1 closing defence

Awesome spar! Thanks @[Hector]! ]