Go hunt.

Why?

I am going to spar with Ophelia.

You do not want me to hurt her.

You’re right. I do not want you to hurt her. She means too much, and your bite is too ferocious.

What about her dragon?

You do not need any more dragon’s blood on your paws, Loretta.

The bitch grunted at the stallion’s last comment, but she trailed away into the depths of the woods surrounding the Hidden Falls territory, her favorite hunting grounds. She had traversed them and fed herself within their confines since she was a pup, and still to this day she could find the plumpest of rabbits and the fullest nests of eggs in that forest. The threshold was close, so in her hunting she would also be able to scout for her bondmate of any wandering newcomers looking for a home to call their own.

Archibald snorted as she left, his body in a firm trot carrying him up the sloping path to the Heavenly Fields. He wondered if Ophelia would be waiting on him, or if he would wait for the white Lady. When Archibald accompanied Ktulu to Ophelia’s side, Ophelia had been waiting for them. In the time that Archibald had known her, she had always been quite punctual. It was in her more refined nature—or what she played off to be her nature—and it was one of the aspects of the Forsaken that Archibald appreciated. He, too, thought time mattered greatly. To respect someone’s time was to show them you respected them and Archibald believed he and the Forsaken to have great respect for each other.

As the giant crested the hill into the field, he let his gait fall back into a determined walk. Golden eyes scanned the arena he had chosen. It was flat, dry, and clear of any large obstacles. This spar with Ophelia was not driven out of malice or spite, but merely out of a need to practice. As long as the pair had known each other and had been involved in battle together, they never sought each other as opponents. Archibald believed that this needed to change, and it was why he had asked her to meet him here today. The sun fell behind the horizon, blanketing the world in the dim and musky light of dusk. The air was cool, though dry, and whispered the soon-coming promise of winter. Archibald let a breath out carefully as he stopped in his chosen battlefield, a white puff forming before his pale nostrils.




[WC: | PC: 0/3 | Heavenly Fields, dusk. Air is cool and dry, the land is flat and even with no large or notable obstacles. | @[Ophelia] -- I hope it was ok I wrote this as if it were planned! :3]

Golden eyes lifted, scanning over the field in the dimming light of dusk. Soon, however, a flash of silvery white in the distance signaled Ophelia’s approach. The titan spread his weight evenly and his muscles tensed, waiting for Ophelia to close the distance between them. After fighting with Ghost in the invasion, Archibald needed a simple spar to relax his body and exercise his muscles. The weight of his breastplate hung heavy on his chest, though no longer unusual and foreign. He had grown used to the metal, and calling it into action was easy enough. Today, however, Archibald told himself it would be of no use. He was in no immediate danger of Ophelia’s rage. The white queen would not attempt to take his life today. The behemoth almost chuckled at the thought of Ophelia attempting to end him, but instead he pushed the thought away and cleared his mind for the hum of battle.

Ink colored ears tipped forward as Ophelia strode forward and spoke of her duties during in the World’s Edge. Archibald had been focusing on keeping the Hidden Falls as a cohesive, new unit in the wake of the invasion while Ophelia and Kahlua lead the charge for finding new leadership of the land he had once ruled. A curious brow lifted as she spoke of the new leaders. Archibald only knew of one, Mauja, and his knowledge was but a whisper of a memory from a battlefield long ago. “I am sure Mauja will be pleased to hold the rank of King in a land he once loved, just as I am at the Hidden Falls.” Archibald nodded, making a note to himself to speak with Kaj about traveling to meet these new leaders. The Dauntless did not know much about Torleik other than he had been the General of the Aurora Basin during the invasion. The others she spoke of Archibald did not know at all, but the mention of Lace’s son intrigued him. If the boy was anything like his father, Archibald wondered if the determination to succeed would fuel him to seek revenge on not being chosen as leader.

Golden eyes, trained and experienced in battle, noticed as Ophelia shifted her weight back. Dark ears flicked down into Archibald’s thick mane as he also shifted his weight. The Czar’s thick neck arched and his shoulders rolled forward, back legs bending some. Just as the Forsaken surged forward, Archibald followed. The dark giant did not feign to the right to avoid her attacks. Instead, Archibald lowered his head some and turned his body slightly left, towards where Ophelia was aiming her attack. Archibald knew that, above all else, he needed to be wary of her horn. The remnants of a scar from Leyra’s horn still puckered the skin of his belly, and several other smaller ticks laced his dark form, all from the slices and punctures of unicorn horns. Jutting his left shoulder forward, Archibald attempted to slam Ophelia’s left cheek. A sharp pain tingled up his leg as the Forsaken, quick as a viper, swiped her maw down and bit Archibald’s knee as it rolled up towards her face. The man did not wince, did not show the pain he felt fizzle on his joint, and continued to push forward. Quickly, Archibald shot his own head forward. His intent was clear as he opened his mouth and aimed for Ophelia’s neck, on the left side closest to him. Archibald continued moving forward, trying to press his weight and presence into Ophelia’s space and perhaps knock her off balance or concentration. In the back of his mind, however, he reminded himself to be careful of her horn.

The white queen had other plans, however, and she quickly backed up. Archibald set his jaw, golden eyes narrowing some. Archibald continued to move forward, his tree-like legs pushing him forward with impressive power. He attempted to surge forward again, this time a small leap, and his feathered, steel-clad front hooves reached out in an attempt to scrape down the sides of her legs. Ophelia was slighter, thinner, and her long legs would surely carry her with grace and speed that far usurped the Dauntless, even in battle. In this battleground he had chosen, if Ophelia got the chance to, she could cover ground quite quickly and evade him. There were no obstacles to hinder them, but Archibald’s lower speed would keep him at bay. If Archibald wanted to keep the upper-hand on this mare, he needed to keep her close and dominate her in the area of strength and pure, brute force. While Archibald did not want to maim this girl, a mare he kept close to his heart, he would not hold any sort of mercy. Archibald expected the same from Ophelia.




[WC: 799 in Word| PC: 1/3 | Heavenly Fields, dusk. Air is cool and dry, the land is flat and even with no large or notable obstacles. | @[Ophelia] ]