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With fire to keep us warm, and tools we made from rocks and bones
Gaucho could feel the mare propelled away from him, but not in the way he had wanted. His aim had been to sidle up beside her, rubbing himself against her flank (aggressively, to be sure), in the same way a cat might rub its cheek against something that it wants to claim ownership of. He wanted to see his blood smeared against her pale coat, and in that, he felt robbed.
The dun's movements had not dallied in perhaps the way that the silver thought that he might (he wanted it again, but that didn't mean he was going to stand around an wait for it like a steel target). His long legs had carried him past her hindquarters, so by the time they swung out to try and knock into him - icy ass or no - he had already moved. Perhaps it was because of this miscalculation that he only felt a trace of the magic that had so consumed him only moments before. There was no electric fire in his veins, only a tingling and irritating sensation of pinpricks that seemed to snap, crackle, and pop in his hindquarters. It made him want to rub his haunches against a tree, or allow himself a particularly long roll. It was not reminiscent of the strength he had felt moments ago, or Ampere's wrath. Gaucho felt his teeth clenching together as a frustrated snort escaped his bone-pierced nostrils.
It was nothing like the blue flame he had felt moments before. In that regard, the dun was still unsatisfied. But perhaps not for long.
The Wildfire turned neatly on his forehand, bringing himself around to stare at the silver. She had put up a good fight - as was evidenced by the blood drying on his rib cage - but she did not appear beaten. He had given her what she had been asking for. Would she return the favour?
"Nyx strong." Gaucho grunted appreciatively, though his gaze was not on her eyes or even her face, but the hills and valleys of her muscular physique. Again the image of Ampere overlayed the silver mare, and he saw the likeness between the sturdiness of their builds, despite the other obvious differences. She didn't smell like Ampere, didn't speak like Ampere, and didn't look like Ampere, but for a few shining moments during their spar, she might have been. She perpetuated his madness by being close enough, and that seemed to be all Gaucho could ask for.
Close didn't just count in horseshoes and hand grenades. It also seemed to count in loneliness and desire.
Now it was time to see just how close she could come.
WC: 442
Attack: Closing
WOOP. Good spar, Snow!!! <3
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in your heart shall burn
