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06-26-2015, 02:45 PM
Ashamin
And so the young Harsupex's challenger arrived. Zandora appeared to him as a part of the shadow plucked straight from the forest. She answered his call with a customary reply, something he expected from a soldier such as herself. Zandora seemed to have a sort of honor that he admired, even if he had never seen her at work on the battlefield. But now, now he would see. Lochan, as if sensing his bonded's rising tide of concentration, skirted the scene. Quiet and affectionate, he bounded forward towards his bonded. The cerndyr headbutted Ashamin's hock in the gentlest of ways; the painted buck took it as a sign of good luck. Ashamin did not let Lochan draw his attention for long, however. Though Ashamin watched as the little deer grabbed hold of and dragged away the span of silk he had hatched beneath, the Haruspex turned quickly back to Zandora as soon as he knew Lochan was safe and tucked away beneath it at the base of a nearby tree. On the ground, nothing rested between them now but white and the circle of silver that was Zandora's bangle. He skirted it, wishing to cause it no damage, and approached Zandora's right with kindness. Though she had backed away, clearly ceding the battlefield to him, he wasn't about to let her walk off so easy. The buck extended his cheek, hoping this time she would not turn him away. He whispered her name, a tender greeting, a "Zandora," and hoped to feel her touch. Time had passed and many emotions had been stirred between them--Ashamin doubted she'd reject his kindness now. But he did not linger, and just as he reached out to greet her he moved past her. He set off first at a trot and then at a quicker canter, running past Zandora and straight into the dark field of trees before them. The painted stallion ran at her back and around where she stood, his body weaving and darting, his adorned tail scraping and electrifying the trunks of the pines that he passed. As he ran he felt the cold wash over him, and with it a sort of blissful calm. It was odd to be making the first move, as if he had some sort of seniority over Zandora. But did he? Now he was of a higher rank, this much was true, but her age brought her the wisdom of experience he could only hope to gather in time. No, Ashamin decided as instinct carried his body behind and around Zandora, gazing at a magical mirror once or twice paled in comparison to living two years longer. And as Ashamin knew, the crooked years Zandora lived had in many ways been harder than his own. As Ashamin's lopsided circle completed and he charged out of the trees at half of a serpentine right angle--heart pounding; snow flying; appearing as a sudden and (hopefully) surprising ghost on white cloven hooves; black eyes narrowed in focus as he charged for Zandora's left flank--he thought in split seconds of how different this spar would be from his disaster with Torleik. He knew Zandora, and he knew himself, better than he had known Torleik or the faint shadow of the weak painted unicorn who had faced the Bloodskald, then. He caught the central eye of his companion, and knew he rested somewhere in that little creature's heart. He caught sight of the faint lavender lines that traced Zandora's back, and he knew that somewhere she rested in his. But those moments of tender reflection were brief and short lived. Suddenly all focus was towards the downturn of his own features and the preparation for impact. If his aim was true, he hoped that her body would stop his front and momentum would swing the rest of him to strike her hind. His whole body tensed and he focused on the hope of the hit to come. He did not want to hurt Zandora, but she had said so herself: now was a time to practice their skills. At the last second he turned his decorated face, bearing his horn so it might make contact with her barrel before the rest of him could, and let his white teeth snap near her girth in an attempt to bite. His long tail waved, a banner and proud flag flung upward, and his heart filled with the song of a warrior at home. For this was his home, and she, his sparring partner, was his friend. Yes, this would be a much different sort of spar. Tagged: @[Zandora] WC: 763 PC: 1/3 attack, 0/1 defense Timeline: Standard, no more than 3 weeks between posts. Summary: Ashamin steps forward to press his face to Zandora's right cheek in greeting, and then is off. He darts past her and straight into the trees, trying to make use of their shadows to hide as he circles around to charge at her left side from a 45 degree angle. He hopes that if she does not dodge him, momentum will swing his back half to collide parallel with hers once the initial impact his stopped his front. At the last second he lowers his head and tilts it to the left to bite at her girth and perhaps scrape her barrel with his horn. Notes: Sorry for the little wait! Best of luck to you, looking forward to this! |
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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