The rising tide of rancor within the dun stallion had set him on edge as of late. Coupled with the need to pretend to play nice or about face any time he saw a horn or heard the rustle of wings, Ricochet was fit to burst at the first transgression he was faced with.

Evangeline and her abhorrent horned-babe still burned like a hot knife in his back, while his heart wilted at the knowledge of his sister carrying unicorn seed and producing Jackal. The boy looked equine enough, but knowing better Ricochet had to keep his savagery in check. Such a heaviness within him was enough to incite weariness and stoke his eternal fires, but it didn't end there, how could it? On a less personal scale the current situation of Isilme being overrun and his home in Helovia equally so, though with all manner of species, even tree-horses for Nieque's sake! No one but he seemed bothered by this which set him at an immediate disadvantage for attempting to change it otherwise, as the face of his father and all he felt right in his bones decreed. Just to add the apple on top of the grass, a unicorn reigned in that herd and pushed for the equality.

Ricochet was sick of unicorns. The next unicorn he saw he was sure he’d kill if only to begin the inevitable eradication of their obnoxious, aggravating and invasive species.

That's when Ricochet saw it, a black horn tipped with blue. It was waving around on the other side of the heart, the blistering inferno Ricochet had been walking to circumvent. He was near the edge now, perhaps the only thing that finally gave his eyes the distance to notice the black stallion treading across from him.

Teeth clenched immediately as Ricochet drove his hoof into the dirt, furrowing the earth as his frustration overwhelmed him. An unnatural shriek bugled from his chest as Ricochet succumbed to his rage. With his thrashing tail like a whip biting into his haunches he bolted forward. Hooves beat a strong rhythm into the compact, heated earth. To his left the gaping cavern of fire twisted and hissed, red embers crawling like insects along the rim. Teal eyes regarded the pit with a maniacal glint, one which spread into the wolf’s grin consuming Ricochet’s twisted face. It pulled at the lines of his scar, but that hurt only fed the urge to destroy.

In limited time Ricochet was near the unicorn, his lineage providing him that burst of speed in short distances and muscle toning. Deimos was no less lacking with athleticism, but the brute was taller and Ricochet knew he could outmaneuver anything so lanky, much less something dragging a sword on it’s gargantuan head. The horns surely must pierce their brains, limiting the function and severely decreasing their intelligence.

As Ricochet ran on he set his attention on the ground around Deimos. He noticed, rather with surprise, that it appeared softer than the packed turf he himself strode upon. It seemed to be, crumbling, dying even. The arrogant stallion disregarded this, his fury limiting his concern for such details as he strove to turn that malleable dirt into the shiny, black powder that similarly coated his nose and his hooves. He could taste the prickly metal on the back of his tongue and feel it sliding around the base of his throat constantly. He literally was the Incendiary – a ticking time bomb.

"RICOCHET THE INCEDNIARY – FUCK YOU!" Ricochet shouted at the top of his lungs as he galloped around the edge of the Heart. As he spoke his head dropped, ears melting against his dark mane and teal eyes turning into daggers. Like a freight train Ricochet arrived upon Deimos. The timing had to be perfect, and it would hurt like hell, but it would be worth it just to see the look of terror. Teeth clicked – limbs locked – hooves skid. Ricochet drove all his momentum and weight onto his forehand, hooves skating into the top surface of dirt and throwing it up like a discolored tidal wave of dust. It quickly shimmered and rippled, its color drifting to the sparkly black, which was soon consumed with flame and sparks. If he aimed true it would sizzle around Deimos’ head and chest, too quickly for the unicorn to react much.

The ground around Deimos remained dark and sinister, as yet unlit and likely unnoticed.

The impact of the halt jolted up Ricochet’s limbs like a cold splintering. Bruising had occurred as cells were tossed around and damaged. Once he’d collected his forward motion he leaped to the right, away from the rim of the heart. All of this happened in snap motions together, his dust having just finished detonating.

[1/2 - 798 words - Ricochet charged at Deimos, changing the dust around his feet to gunpowder, a set up for the next post. He skid to a halt just before impact, changing the dust that threw up into gun powder and igniting that then leaping sideways.

R I C O C H E T - -
blam, you're dead