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10-24-2015, 04:41 PM
His lead retreats out from under his crashing, punishing horn, sliding backwards in the mud. His long, thick, and loosely spiraled horn whistles through air as his attack, again, met no resistance. Though, this time, there is no accompanying annoyance or irritation at himself— no, his mind is too busy forestalling demons to care that his haphazard and distracted strike has missed its mark. Cold, thick mud flies up as his hooves crash down to the earth, the sucking sludge squelching loudly. A deep, coldly azure stare continues to bore into the light blue, now anguished and guilty, eyes of Mauja. A rough snort escapes his flared, thick nostrils. He appreciates the apology that is written so plainly on the pale and inked spotted face of his Queen— yet he doesn’t. His hide is blistered and his shoulder sings in agony with the raw flesh ripping in the face of his rough attack. The smell of burnt hair and flesh is pungent in the close quarters of the two large stallions— a smell so emotionally repulsive to the elephant. These parts of Tembovu appreciate the apology. But the other parts of the giant scream for distraction and action. He wants to spar, he does not want to be coddled nor pitied. He had spent a long while pitying himself and his misfortunes. Then he had committed himself to revenge. Now he was committing himself to justice and a future. He drags a thick, pale hoof in the mud as he paws with his injured shoulder once. The flash of pain, he hopes, will clear his mind of emotions as the adrenaline spikes. But he is wrong, for the pain does nothing more than fluster his already distracted head. His thoughts are a jumble as Mauja mounted his next attack. Fear, anger, irritation, confusion, forgiveness, blame— all these things swirl as the vaporizing mist around them on the cliffs. So, the white leopard stud’s attack hits true. It is thankfully (blessedly, wonderfully) fire-free. But the mammoth, mentally unable to brace for the (rather kind) offense, feels Mauja’s sternum sink deeply into his soft flank like a blade. His haunches slip in the oozing earth from the impact of the large, muscular stallion. He can feel the deep bruise already spreading through his flank, bursting blood reaching behind the ends of his ribs. The silvered buckskin darkens immediately as the skin begins to hue bluish from the broken vessels. The impact shoves a breath loudly from his chest, stealing any words or expletives he might have cursed. His hind limbs scramble to right themselves, forgoing the opportunity to strike at the white skull that is within their kicking range. He catches his balance, a deep ache emanates from his left flank from the impact and scrambling motions he has taken to stop himself from falling. His right shoulder continues to sing its displeasure. A low sigh escapes him and he feels— for the first time in his life— a twinge of displeasure at needing to mount an attack. This was so much of his past, of an angry and vengeful soul so keen on destruction. Darkened cobalt eyes that had closed against the crash of titans open and peer towards his lead. A confused misery paint their depths and soak his masked face— a misery stemming from deeper than his exterior battle wounds. Half-heartedly, he rises once more on his haunches, angling his thick neck to reach across the broad, speckled back of his opponent. Thick columns of forelimbs aim to strike out against his pale barrel while his bared teeth seek to grasp the flesh above Mauja’s withers. His right limb does not move nearly as much as his left as they strike through the air, his shoulder already beginning to tighten. It was an awkward attack, as his body was curved to left with his left flank hurting so deeply. But his heart was no longer in it. His body was- for his attack was full-force. His mind was- for it needed the distraction. But he no longer wanted to be the hardened, political general of his past. Were his demons haunting him, or was he haunting his demons? He didn’t know. WC: 711 3/3 Summary: His left flank is deeply bruised from Mau’s attack. He rears and bends to the left to t-bone Mau, strike his barrel with his hooves, and bite his withers/neck base. |
- table by Niki -
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