.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-29-2016, 06:56 PM
 She stands so unsuspecting, as if she may even know what she is waiting for. Her pale body almost blurring into the landscape's darkness despite her ashen tints across her fluffy coat. The dawn's color palette swathed in the dark blues of the mountains, the dim grays of the brewing storm clouds suspended weightlessly around the jagged alps and sparkling white of frost lacing everything except the still waters of the lake. From beyond the line of her sight his long, shadowed figure comes slithering forward in near silence. Those full moon eyes dreamily closed and unaware of his approach in the soft golden light of the Aurora morning. She is the hare that, just begging to be caught. A gnarly, wily and fat little hare, but in Deimos' shadow she's a hare all the same. So what is he, a wolf? Ah, no, much more demon than mortal, she assumes. A wolf would never do justice in describing him. His musk clings to the currents of other organic smells that swirl listlessly around the glassy lake. Tangere's eyes flutter open and her long pale eyelashes give way to her bright henna gaze; the low light allowing them to hide their normal gloss. Deimos' voice rumbles and reaches out to her like long bony fingers that grab and hold her ears. She's never heard him say her name before... She can feel his voice shape the edges of her name. The silver unicorn sort of relishes in it for a moment. Until the word 'spar' drops into the heavy atmosphere and she breaks away from the flitting, airy sensation of her name in his mouth and reality simply smacks her in the face. Tang nods to him and leaves the rest quiet between them. Words don't really have a place here anymore. She can hear the raven's hollow laugh bounce around her mind and casts a rolling glance his way. He's patiently perched in an ancient pine that stands on the shore. He's never been part of a spar, innocent or brutal, and he's offered to stay out of it for now. His mare likes that. The worry of him becoming harmed would distract her anyhow. If she were collected, wise or at all experienced she would know to calculate things like the terrain, the temperature and how thin is the air today, is it going to snow – things of this nature. She does not take her environment into account, but instead skips straight to the subject of her opponent. Tangere looks him over, swallowing his body up with her hungry eyes; his tall, bold frame with muscles twisted perfectly around steel bones and a long midnight-blue tipped sword swinging out of his forehead. Avoid that horn, she muses. She shifts her split toes in place, sinking slightly in the snow and sand, swishing her cropped tail anxiously from hip to hip. She lowers her head and points her horn at him – a respectful acceptance of his invitation to go first. “Kill his momentum. Stay away from that horn. If you can only avoid one set of hooves, then let it be the hind, he'll have more power there, probably.” Phrixus watches and carefully plucks the chaotic thoughts from her spinning mind, feeding them back to her with a directness she cannot seem to gain by herself. The bird has no knowledge of how to be a unicorn, or how to fight one, but their connection allows him to slip inside of her seamlessly and allow her to access the collection she lacks. She springs forward, using the power of her hind legs to propel toward him. Her toes dig and fall a few inches through the thin crust of snow, slowing her launch significantly. Her smaller, rounded size makes her a little cannonball so to speak – though her force is questionable at this point. For all she knows she could fall down dead as a pebble the moment she touches his flesh. Upon reaching him she plans to push her fuzzy chest into his own, force herself against him with all her might and bring herself up on the strength of her back legs. If she can manage to she will try to anchor herself to him by curling a front leg around his withers so he cannot shake her so easily. She wants to chomp at his poll wildly, going for the ear or cheeks, pretty much anything she can find with her flattened yellowed teeth. If he moves she will try her best to cling to him, but the loose footing may just hinder that attempt. She attempts to stay on him like pine-pitch tangled in one's hair. Summary: She rushes at him and tries to *cling* while biting at his poll, ears and general cheek/face area. I attempted to write it so it could be left open for Deimos to perhaps just be strong enough to shove her away, or do some evasive thing where she doesn't even get to bite at him. Words: 785 Posts: 1/3 [I think? Lol] I'm here to learn so don't be scared to be like....WTF Psilo. What is this garbage xD This is literally my first battle post for a looooong time <33 also, sorry for the wait ily non omnis moriar |
- You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
- Please tag me so I don't forget anyone(:
