Ki'irha

When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.

The blue girl scowled, silver eyes narrowing as he winked at her. Learn a thing or two? From an aged stallion of war? She snorted, ears flicking back in annoyance. She was not some bouncy yearling enamored by the thrill of fighting. She had been bathed in blood, baptized by the crimson waves drawn by her horn. Her body had been bruised and beaten, but compared to her losses, her victories shone through. She had been triumphant against stallions much larger than she. She had torn battle princes from their thrones, crushed bone beneath her hooves, released souls from their mortal shells to find their place among the stars. "We'll see about that," she nearly hissed, the deceitful friendliness present in her greeting missing from her words.

The blue's rolled eyes and nearly inaudible groan exuded irritation. He continued, laughing at his own joke about age and beauty and blah, blah, blah. The more he spoke, the less she liked him. She didn't need his compliments. If anything, his seeming obsession with the compliments left him wide open to be manipulated. But she wasn't in the mood to employ her verbal finesse. Instead, she'd rather use her strength to prove her point, to convince him she was more than sultry curves and a pretty face. If Nox was sparring with another stallion, he certainly wouldn't be commenting on the attractive slope of his opponent's ass.

Her evaluation of the scourge was more than a lustful glance. It was a tactic, a skill taught to her by her father early on in her training. She looked for things she had seen in past adversaries, and considered the advantages and disadvantages presented in the fight. There were several things the warrior noticed about the black stag. Though not crowned with a deadly blade upon his brow, his ram horns would impact a larger area, and his skull was certainly adapted to take a hit. His neck was sloped, muscles sculpted to certainly protect his spine from the brunt force of using his horns. He didn't stand much taller than she, and was built similarly to her as well. But her blood was mixed compared to his pedigree, and the warmblood in her made her faster and stronger. She wasn't even sure what spurred his comment about age, as he looked nearly as young as she was. He certainly wasn't old enough to be an aged veteran of the battle field. Still, she was curious to see if the stallion could back his words.

He ran towards her, head dipped low. She dropped her own skull, brow adorned with a deadly weapon gifted to her from the gods. Her muscles tensed, cloven toes digging into the nearly frozen earth as he thundered towards her. Her tail lashed behind her as she waited, a smirk crossing her lips. Well, at least this would be a predictable fight. Leaping forwards, she rushed to meet him. She shifted ever so slightly to the right, ensuring his broad head wouldn't slam into her chest. She felt his horn caress her shoulder, a momentary sting which she knew would be followed by the smallest row of crimson pearls and a bruise that would keep him on her mind for a while.

As he plowed past her she leaned in. She felt him close, and as he left her side and passed her, she coiled and kicked, rear hooves lashing, hoping to kick him in the ass where he deserved it. She looped, running after him, expecting the brute to turn and face her. Even if he didn't, she was sure to catch him eventually. She slowed her pace as she turned, taking care to watch her footing. The frost and overspray from the river were both sure to make slick spots, and a misplaced hoof could force her into a violent fall. She reached her velvety maw out, white waves tossing over the nape of her neck like a war banner. Her jaws opened, lips curled away from white teeth, then snapped shut with a satisfying clap. She wanted to draw blood, taste his iron on her tongue, drag him back and keep him close.

She wanted to chase him back to his greenhouse, and teach him to speak to her with respect. She may not be an "aged stallion of war," but she certainly had plenty to teach him, if only he would listen long enough to learn.
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Talk
WC:: 742
Attack Post 1/3
Setting:: Blood Falls in the morning. Clear sky, chilly weather. They're by the river in a small clearing surrounded by trees. The river is knee-deep where they are.
Summary:: Ki'irha runs towards Nox and shifts to the right. The tip of his left horn grazes her left shoulder. The cut is superficial, with minimal capillary bleeding. She kicks out, hoping to hit him with her rear hooves. She then circles around and runs after him, trying to bite him as he runs from her or run into him and bite him if he stops/turn around.
@Mortuus Nox  ~