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I know nothing of Gaucho, other than faint tales of a very dangerous warrior who lived in the heart of the desert. As far as I was concerned, this threat was just that – empty words, left ringing in the air to keep little boys from wandering too far from home. He is not even a cursory thought in my mind as I prowl along behind the unfortunate fellow whose things have caught my eye.
“YOU!” booms some voice from above, the smell of heat obvious in the cold air above; embers drift down from his expanded wings, which were on fire, just like the bird dropping down beside him, its body a blazing arrow. I spin around to meet his approach with golden eyes wide as they’ve ever been, my heart actually thudding to a stop for a brief second at the sight of his inspiring ferocity.
I’m still staring at him like some idiot boy when the fire erupts in a shower of red and orange. It seems to come from his wings – I’m not sure – as whatever has held me in place until now has relinquished its hold, and I’m trying to hard to leap towards the right and out of reach of the blaze.
It might have worked, maybe, if I’d not been so caught up in what I’d been doing before seven hells broke loose in the form of a shouting bird from Hell. As it stands I’m quite startled by the shock of his arrival, and not as fast as I thought I was or could be. In a wave of pain, the fire surges across my left side, its crackling voice a loud roar in my ears as the hair singes away beneath its hungry touch; as the skin welts and splits, a most womanly, "Aaaieeeee!" finds its way from my mouth.
The pain is a bright agony that I can’t compare to anything, a very sudden understanding of why mother had hated dragons so much revealed as the fire dies away, and the pain only grows, the cold wind like needles raining down on the flesh; I can’t help but look at the bellowing pegasus like he’s, well… a barbarian. A barbarian named Gaucho (oh, so he’s not imaginary… shit) his short and simple sentence structure almost laughable (almost).
I skitter backwards, trying to get as far away from his landing place as I can, warily listening for the flaming bird (I’ve utterly lost it in all the joy of being caught on fire), the slightest quirk of a smile rising through the worry that maybe I should try to get away while I can.
Nah.
How often would I get to face off against a real legend? This could be the only time in my whole life I could potentially be murdered by someone who was famous!
I suck in my quivering breath. I tell the little bitch inside me who’d screamed when Gaucho’s fire touched me to man up or shut up; I mentally smack it when the residual pain of the fire makes me whimper without being given permission. My gaze is defiant in the way that only an impetuous unicorn supremacist (and former Prince) who’s fought three Gods without a scratch is capable of.
"Make me, old man," I taunt, restraining a mad giggle (I think it was the little girl inside me fainting) as my body moves to life, all the arrogance I’ve ever felt pitching me into a fight that I’ll never win.
The pain makes me pant, breath already too deep to be in the first throws of a battle. Leading with my right shoulder, covered in the bronze cover I’d found only some days before, I try to keep its metallic protection presented to where he should be on the field (unless he’s moved, or has taken flight), coming forward with the semblance of a charging rapier strike. At the last moment I pull aside, hoping to streak on by him along what had been his right when I’d first started moving. As I try to make it by him, there is some strange pull within me, some magical fluctuation that is foreign, unknown, but it is crackling, alive with the brilliant black lightning that my first magic has. Part of me wonders if the sudden stress of this situation hasn’t made me lose some of my sanity, but its so real that I can’t help but think that I might have just discovered something wonderful and new about myself.
The spark moves in the general direction of Gaucho with some of my strength in tow, a curious glance cast to the pegasus observe its effect – if any.
1/4 :: 789 words
[ OOC: Well because he’s a moron he’s not running away. Being logically afraid is not his strong suit obviously. ;D ]
:: [ Magic: DarkxSpark | The ability to short circuit the electrical impulses of an opponent's brain, causing temporary loss of control over their physical responses. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Lasts 20 seconds in battle. ]
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Oh I'll get some | Rikyn Challenge
