Although lust was buried within his gut, flowing through his veins, and pumping into his heart, sex had not been his intention today. That was, however, until Nymeria swung her ass towards his face. The scents that filled his nostrils were unmistakable, and they made his heart thrum against his chest violently. After this dance, the leviathan would take what he wanted and he would not be gentle. His horn had sliced over her skin and muscle, sending a wave of satisfaction over him. The sight of blood was always exciting, and mixed with the thought of fornication, it was damn-near heavenly. Grunting, Abraham quickly surged forward, hind end curving and propelling him. Muscles bunched in his abdomen and his haunches, lifting his massive frame into a mini-rear. As his body lifted up, Nymeria's kick merely sliced the air beneath his legs. Gritting his teeth, Abraham kicked his front hooves forward and rolled them back quickly, hoping to strike the grulla on her rounded hindquarters, just above her dock. The thought crossed his mind of mounting her here and now and taking what he truly decided he wanted, but the foreplay of this dance would only heighten the pleasure in the end. Another grunt left Abraham's maw as he moved his body harshly, trying to land this time on the opposite side of Nymeria--her left--only to be suddenly seized by a dizzy, faint feeling.

His head swam like warm cotton had filled his ears, and the sound of blood pounding against his skull slowed in tempo. Blinking, the stallion shook his head some, as if he could shake the feeling off to the ground. Inside his nose, a blood vessel popped from the pressure, and a steady trickle of blood leaked from the left side, tasting metallic on his tongue as it slipped past his own lip. In this haze, Abraham drifted all-too close for a moment, and a splatter of boiling water licked his hide most cruelly. A sudden hiss pulled his lips apart, and pulled him back to this dance. Abraham, then, did all he could do in that moment: send his body like a battering ram to knock into her left ribcage and, he hoped, send her crashing to the ground and break like a delicate glass vase. His height and weight clearly outmatched her, but she had quicker, thinner limbs for carrying her away like a forest nymph. Perhaps she had been distracted enough by the pain of defending against Gwyneverre's attack, for it might have been the only thing to help keep Abraham has the dominant on in this moment. Solid, massive hooves dug into the moist sands below him as he pushed harder into his attempted attack, though the thick sands slowed him down more than what he wanted. Each second that passed brought his mind back to where it needed to be, the rage of battered pride fueling his assaults further. Quickly, Abraham flung his head like a viper, teeth gnashing a bite aimed for her withers. Sweat formed in the crevices of his body, and the closeness to Nymeria was almost intoxicating. Patience, he told himself, though his loins burned for release. The sexual frustration grew the ire in his eyes, their narrowed, bi-hued daggers digging into the grulla.

The white dragon ended her flame when Abraham faltered, his clouded mind from his intense headrush affecting her. Wings beat hard to keep her in flight, and she roared her displeasure with the grulla woman below and her sorcery. Shaking her little body, the white dragon darted downwards, claws aimed to dig into Nymeria's poll. Above them all, Brienne still intended to kill the little black dragon. Her ice had seized his tail and a flicker of pride grew in her chest, causing the golden to swell and appear larger than she actually was. The black's quick aerial movements were sharp and impressive, the gold would give him that, but they still paled in comparison to the power she held over him. Tucking in her wings, the gold aimed her clawed-hands to reach out again for the fleeing black's wings. A grounded dragon was a dead dragon, the young gold knew. Fire, hot and angry, poured from the black's jaws and Brienne let her own, icy element fall from her jaws. With the raging flag of pride waving in her mind, Brienne could not let this black or his bonded win this day--or any day to come. Her ice crashed into his fire--their matching ages holding their strength relatively the same--and a loud, sizzling sound filled the Halcyon Flats. In Brienne's independent assault, the fuzziness that had grasped Gwyneverre's mind so strongly only graced Brienne's mind with the simplest whisper, disregarded easily for the natural energy-drain of battle.

[PC: 2/3 | WC: 795 | Magic: Dark | Skin excretes a neurotoxin :: Restrictions: Symptoms include hallucinations, loss of motor control, sense impairment and cognitive impairment for 30 seconds in battle. **This is an active magic, but is always present on Abraham's skin.]