The mare was vaguely aware of the audience that had arrived to view the physical argument the girl had started with this stud. She didn't know their ranks, but she knew their names, their appearances featured in her memories numerous times. The large steed, with antlers atop his poll and wings draped in flame, she knew from her time as an excited yearling, attending training days alongside her father, the General of his time. Gaucho, she recalled his primitive-sounding drawl, but nothing much else. Meanwhile, Ampere's small frame she recognised from the Threshold. The attendance of Gaucho and Ampere simply was; had the girl given them any more attention than that, there was potential for her to 'choke', to lose her nerve due to the overwhelming need to please her peers. Her ignorance to their true ranks was her advantage; all she saw as she ascended into the skies were two extra sets of eyes watching her beat the idiotic (albeit challenging) Bucephalus into a pulp.

Her spear struck true (enough) against her target, and as the girl surged into the sky she was startled to feel the beast's shoulder shove into her own - it threw off her path slightly, and she didn't feel the satisfying clunk of hoof against skull, but she still got into the air.

"Have you ever tried to catch a cloud?" She replied sharply to his words. She was a pegasus, a master of the skies, a creature who could bewitch the very wind they both rode on. As she rose into the skies further, she indeed encouraged the wind to fill her wings, lifting her faster than she might have otherwise risen, but once aloft she laxed her hold on the magic that inspired the wind, instead thinking more of heavy, pregnant clouds ready to drop their load upon them all. The humidity rose significantly, and she encouraged the air to be more still - it meant more work for herself, but her broad wingspan scooped the air with ease as she hovered, tilting her position to track the self-proclaimed 'falcon' across the sky.

Sweat darkened her hide faster as she encouraged the humidity to rise further still, to an almost unbearable degree, clouds gathered above her - almost matching her darkened points. The weather made her flight somewhat clumsier, more sluggish, and as such, even though she tracked the steed's movements, when it came to adjusting herself in the skies to dodge him, she found herself resorting to simply allowing herself to drop several feet towards the ground below. This meant that as he swung his haunches down and attempted to strike her with all four feet, only the flat of his hind hooves struck their mark - her ample rump. Somehow the timing of it managed to have them depart ways between wingstrokes - a fortunate thing, for Cirrus did not want to plummet to the ground entwined with a stallion today.

She'd let him fall by himself, happily.

The impact left her with bruising, the flat of both hooves having marked her with neat, twin, almost-circular rings atop her rump. It was fortunate once again that she was airborne, for had she been against the ground, her pelvis would have likely shattered from this impact and the previous one - as it was, her own hips swung downwards, carrying the force of Bucephalus' strike through the air in a (not so) graceful swing. A deep grunt exited the mare's lungs, and again she ground her teeth as her ears dove deeper beneath the dreadlocked mane atop her poll, casting cruel, vicious glances at the dark stallion. His golden tips and pale markings illuminated him against the darkness of not only his coat, but their darkening surrounds too - she hunted him swiftly, hesitation a foreign concept to her.

In the skies they were equals, moreso than the ground offered - they were to be judged upon their swiftness in the wind, instead of her being grossly outsized, or the dirt getting in her eyes. Even now she still blinked the wretched sand from her eyes, each grain a small irritant she wouldn't be rid of until she bathed in the lake of her soon-to-be-won home. With eagerness she pumped her wings, willing the wind to fill them so that she might fly faster than the steed and pommel him where he flew. Praying to the Gods that crafted this land and blessed her with powers, she did her best to catch up and try to angle herself somewhat behind-and-above him. Forelegs outstretched, she aimed for the gashed area across his back, and simply tried to use him as a mid-air launch pad, first with her forelegs, then her hinds followed.



[ ooc :: 709 words according to MS word
3/4 attack
0/1 defence
Cirrus' magic is said in the Records to last 10 minutes from when she activates it.
@[Bucephalus]