.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
10-11-2015, 01:48 AM
Large hooves slip in the muck, thick columns of front legs sliding as the leopard lead shoots forward and away. The giant collides with air— which, as it turns out, is not very good at stopping momentum. Particularly an elephant’s. So he scrambles to find balance in the ice-like mud, flinging some if it airborne as he rights himself. Thick nostrils snort once in annoyance at himself. Amateur hour. He stands, legs slightly splayed and neck stretched level with his withers as a result of catching himself from falling in the sludge. Azure gaze sharpens on his Queen, who stands a bit before him, aloofly smiling. Though his smile is different now— unease trickles into his thick barrel as the white stallion makes no move to physically attack him. What was he doi— Fire. Flaming phenixes erupt in the air. Dark blue eyes widen. Why did they have to be fire? The hellish creatures flew straight towards the mammoth. Black tipped ears pin flush with his skull as he struggles backwards in the ooze. Taking one sidestep, he is forced to halt his vain attempt at escaping the fiery eagles as his large hooves feel the unsteady limestone threaten to give beneath them. Though he his not extremely close to the edge, the crumbling cliffs cannot support his gargantuan weight. His head turns. He clamps shut his eyes, gritting his jaw. The heat comes, scalding the broad, buckskin expanse of his right shoulder. A hiss escapes from clenched teeth. But it is not the raw skin or seared nerve endings that elicit such a pained response from the antelope stud. It is the smell of burnt flesh. His eyes snap open, dark and accusing. His hurt, haunted gaze bores into Mauja. Though the other stallion does not— cannot— know the depth of pain he had just inflicted. There is no good humor in his face now, no smile warming his thick muzzle. The cheerfulness has fled the large stud. Only strained lines crease his brow. Ringing deep, anguished eyes robbed of their previous light. The fire birds have burnt a clearing in the fog between the two stallions. Though it only serves to highlight the black edging into his vision. He pins his ears harder against the echoing crackling of flames and phantom screams. No. He does not want to fall down his hellhole. He does not want to see charred, unrecognizable bodies. He stamps his right forelimb, hard, hoping that the physical pain from his scorched shoulder will keep the mental torment at bay. He feels the limestone shudder beneath his large hooves. “Keep your fire birds to yourself, Mauja,” words are terse, his low voice is thick, hoarse, and heavy with unexplained anguish. But it is clear there is more pain beneath his words than what stems from the burn on his hide. He takes a few, slow steps towards his lead, not caring that it allows him to prepare for his next attack. He needs firmer footing— even if the ground is slick everywhere. His mind is no longer in this spar. It wants out. It wants darkness and solitude— to dry to dig its way out of the hole its descending. This fight is a diversion, now. Something his sinew needs. So, almost carelessly, he throws himself once more at his friend. Is he a friend, still? The white stud did not know how deeply his scars ran. But, in the hazy pain of his demons, the elephant finds it difficult to overlook this. He tucks his chin, forelimbs raising in a half-rear. His thick, massive horn searches to clash against the deadly, crystal beauty of Mauja’s. His gouging hooves seek the tender tissues of his forelegs. His accusing gaze stays open, staring into light blue, despite the pending impact. 2/2 WC: 636 Summary: His right shoulder is burned by the birds. He launches himself, head on, at Mau, horn to horn, while his front legs slash out. ooc: This got so much darker than I expected it to. I guess that’s why it took so long to write it ;-; Sorry it got so intense for a teaching spar D: |
- table by Niki -
Please tag Tembovu.
