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The night air is crisp against her hide, a winter kiss pressed across grey fur. Tonight she idles, with few cares and fewer things to do. Most nights are spent training, or duelling in the fog with her dearest spotted king, but tonight she is determined to simply relax. Graze, mooch around, chill. Lazy horse things, not fearsome warrior things.
No sooner did she tell herself that, however, than boredom began to set in, a thief in the night. How can she stand idly around when there is work to do? So she settles on a compromise; an activity that will stimulate her brain, but will still allow her to stand in one place and believe that she is relaxing, even if she isn't. She rarely uses her magic, certainly far less than she should. In her humble opinion, it isn't as fun as the magic she had when she was a foal, which she traded for sight; the ability to summon thunderstorms is far more interesting than the ability to turn herself into an electrified shellfish. But her powers do have their uses, so she steels her determination and bids a crust of ice to form across her body, charged by an electrical current. She will only get better at using her ability if she practices with it outside battle, after all. It doesn't involve much movement, and it will satisfy her craving to better herself every minute of every day. Despite her vow to stay in one place and have some much-needed downtime, the silver still finds herself wandering forwards, wincing against the effort of maintaining her woefully underused magic. She slams her eyes shut and forces all her focus into keeping her thunder-shield activated, just to see how long she can maintain it before it crumbles into shards. As a result, she isn't looking where she's going. She doesn't see Mauja, brooding under (and staring daggers at) the moon. Not until she stumbles into him with a muffled thud, right into his not entirely unattractive backside. "Whoops," she squeaks, as her eyes flick open and she realises who she has walked into, and probably gently electrocuted. She hauls her magic back into her body, but it's more than likely too late. She flashes him a somewhat sheepish grin. "I'm starting to think you like being sparked on the ass," she remarks, high-humoured and only slightly shamefaced about frazzling her king. Their fight is still hot in her memory, and her veins throb as though in sympathy with the mere thought of his ice spikes bursting through them. |
Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.
