Words rolled off of his tongue like venom, his body coiled like a viper. A flash of pain in his face, however, gave some faltering discontent to his demonic looks. Grunting (and sounding oh, so much like his father), Abraham stopped his canter. Weight shifted onto his back legs, back rounding and center of gravity lowering to take the pressure off of his injured from legs. Pain throbbed and radiated through his right shoulder and continuously--like a pulse of lightning--up and down his left leg. In some part of his mind, the growing stallion had an ounce of worry that the injury he sustained from his own vigor would remain with him forever. Flashes of his colossal father entered his mind, the massive scars ripping across the right side of his body vivid and intense. While he did not suffer the same fate of an outward scar, he remembered the way his mother's joints clicked when the weather grew cold. From battle, she would remind him, pride and glory glimmering in her eyes. Was this injury enough to hold with such regard, should it cause future discomfort? The leviathan would have to weigh the thought carefully, and for now he pushed it into the abyss of his thoughts.

His twin dragons moved quickly in the air, avoiding Isopia's magic stone wall from slamming into either of them. With intense cries--though unique to each the gold and the white--the reptilian queens caught a rift of wind and glided toward their bondmate. Above Abraham they circled, scales shining brilliantly and beautifully in the sun that shone down on their backs relentlessly. Their rippling reflects were even impressive as they danced on the surface of the water, a mirror beneath the massive stallion they called their own. Abraham's mismatched eyes narrowed as he watched the raven-girl, still sprawled on the sandy earth. Abraham's muscles coiled and tightened beneath his sleek fur, already moist with sweat from their endeavors, his tail lashing like that of a predatory cat waiting for a mouse to make its final move. The girl was not moving, and it made the giant suddenly clench his jaw. She had called this spar, and now she was just LAYING THERE, BASKING IN DEFEAT!

The boy's face grew warm beneath the black pelt his father had  given him, not knowing how the girl could inspect the sign of offense painted so clearly to her on his features. "Get up!" He snapped viciously, teeth gnashing wildly at the air. He waited for her to transform back into a horse. He had commanded his dragons not to kill her, and he knew he could easily kill her in her raven form. He and Reginald had killed animals larger than the raven-girl when they were but babes. Snapping her bones and watching her blood pour into the salted sands would be easy. But this was not a battle of death and destruction. If it were, Abraham guessed that she would at least try harder to survive. But she merely stayed in the dirt and grime. Snorting, body swelling with his pent up frustration, Abraham prepared to verbally lash at her once more.

Beneath him, suddenly, the earth rumbled. Warmth--like the warmth he knew well of Gwyneverre's fire--started to sizzle beneath him. Pulled away from his anger at the raven-girl, Abraham suddenly jumped sideways. In his rapid movement he lost all sense of the commands of grace and fluidity his mother had given him as a colt. He even forgot the throbbing pain he felt in his shoulder and leg--but he was quickly reminded. Sharp, like a horn digging into his flesh, his wounds came back to life. Muscles pulled and screamed their displeasure and defiance, joints shaking and trembling in their pain. However, as pillars of earth suddenly surged from where his hooves were once planted, the pain he felt increase only made sense. The stallion's face twisted into a dark scowl, pain laced through the fibers. "We shall end this, then." Guttural and penetrating, Abraham voiced his decision.

Gwyneverre, the speedy white and older of the two dragons, suddenly darted from her circling above the warmed pillars. A raucous cry emitted from her throat as her belly warmed, glowing oranges and reds that matched her eyes. A shooting, targeted spiral of hueless flame sought the raven-girl, hoping to disintegrate her and leave her nothing but a memory. Brienne let loose a cry as well, watching her sister dart for the attack. The golden yearned to hold the elemental prowess of her sister, but alas, she was still too young. This battle had already depleted the amount of ice she could conjure from the depths of her gut.

[PC: 3/3 | WC: 783 | Right shoulder bruise, left leg strained.]