Well, shit.

Where her handsome spar-partner stood a few seconds ago, there is now a giant-ass fiery bear. Startled, the silver slams back her ears and flings on her brakes; she stops just before she's about to face-plant the flaming creature, and hurriedly throws herself into reverse to get away from the searing heat. Damn, he's nimble for a big bastard. She'd deduced as much - he might be built like a brick shithouse, but he doesn't exude the cumbersome bulk of some heavy draft breeds. It is still quite an unpleasant shock to find that her first barrage of attacks have come up blank, however, and she shudders at the very realistic notion of going through a whole battle without landing a single hit. That would be embarrassing.

Gaucho not have breakfast. Ah, she remembers those dulcet tones. She's willing to bet that delicious voice of his has moistened many a pair of panties in his lifetime, and she's certainly no different. She has about as much self-control around attractive men as Dominus has around herbivorous prey. Her pupils dilate and a hungry half-gargle half-growl emits from her lips, whilst the sweat that liberally beads across her flesh grows that little bit thicker. "Ooh, dear - a little bit tense, are we? Not getting any action at home, Mister Muscles?"

At the obviously flirtatious hint in her voice, Dominus releases an audible groan of disgust and flings his furry white paws across his eyes, his tail flickering with exasperation. "Not again."

No sooner have the words left Nyx's lips than her opponent is upon her again, like a wild animal upon fresh meat; his teeth land heavily and firmly upon his intended area, and a bruise immediately springs into existence on her grey hide. Jesus, it hurts. She desperately flings her body into reverse, trying to escape any further bombardment, but his shoulder rams against her right side and clunks against her hip with an impact that leaves yet another formidable bruise in its wake. Already she's aching more than she cares to notice, but god dammit, she cannot and will not just bend to him like some broken toy to an angry child. She is not General of the Edge for nothing. She might lose, but she's going to damn well lose with dignity.

His words momentarily deter her mental tirade, and despite her pain and determination she ejects a snort of amusement. "Do you go around propositioning all of your spar partners, handsome, or should I consider myself special?" With a deep huff, the silver swings her hips around to their left, hoping to bring her front end facing the middle of his right side (because trying to bring her back end into play is out of the question, not to mention she doesn't fancy trying to balance her full weight on her injured front shoulder in order to lash out with her hindlegs). She swings her neck in a long flicking motion, aiming to drag the tip of her horn along his right side from flank to shoulder; if she could leave a scar on that delightful flesh of his, it would be great.

Simultaneously, Nyx summons her second magic. She's never used it in battle before, and thus her aim might not be quite as good as it could be - she attempts to bid electricity to sizzle through the water in his bloodstream, hoping to cause considerable pain and distraction. Hopefully, he'll be so focused on the shock that's radiating inside him that he'll allow her horn attack to land, because she daren't call herself General if she misses every god damn blow in this fight.

Just to accompany the symphony of determination and steely focus, the silver's mind is plagued with devilish thoughts of this annoyingly attractive man. He fights like nothing she's witnessed before, and that, to the war-mongering mare, is sex on bread. She wants more of that. She might be losing this battle horribly, but she's enjoying it immensely.