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06-20-2016, 01:23 PM
This storm finds Seanan in the open, and it makes all the difference. There is something familiar about the rage of this downpour, though he does not know if it is memory or kinship he feels. Rose-tinted eyes close as he stands immobile in the pouring rain, head turned up as if in worship. His body is stretched towards the sky, the rain striking him head on as he revels in the roar of thunder and the brief flashes of eldritch fire that leap down from the angry clouds. Each time lightning strikes, it turns the water into sheets of quicksilver, as reflective as shards of mirrors and nearly as impossible to see through. Two horses could pass each other in this storm and never know the other existed.
There is a brief lull between the rolling thunder and in it he hears an earthly echo of the storm's music. It is a challenge. He turns towards the sound, uncertain for a moment before a flash of lightning reveals a glimpse of a dark silhouette in the rain, closer than he expects but far enough for his purposes.
He does not see the dragons or he might have thought better of accepting.
Instead he lets the rage of the storm carry lightning to his blood. The shine of his coat is transmuted by the deluge of water, turning him from a figurine of pearl into a spectre in the dark. Pale hooves cut into the field and he wheels until the rain is behind him. The wind seems to push him, urge him forward. His body stretches, lengthens. His blood ignites. The impact of the ground all but disappears in the drum of his heart and the way the storm seems to shake the very air. His reply is not a roar but a scream like a striking falcon, a sharp crack of lightning to echo the thunder.
The other stallion is not so much taller than him but still Seanan rears his forelegs half off the ground, front hooves striking out at where he believed the other stallion's left side is, the driving rain behind him. His momentum is barely checked by his hind hooves digging into the slick grass and mud. Quick as a viper his muzzle strikes forward, ivory teeth trying for the muscular black withers he knows must be there somewhere, in the dark, over the broad back. He is striking for control.
He is under no illusions as to his chances. The glimpse the lightning showed him was a warrior of the kind that has no place in the desert. In heat and driving sands, perhaps Seanan would have the advantage. That doesn't matter right now. This is a dance and Seanan is eager to perform.
OOC://
@Volterra
473 words
1/3 Attacks 0/1 Closing Defense
Summary: Seanan comes at Vol's left side, with the driving rain behind him. He half-rears and lashes out with his front hooves and tries to bite at Vol's withers, barely checking his momentum.
I don't really care either way about magic or companions :) Seanan has neither, but I don't really care about this being 'fair', haha. Whatever you think would be more in character for Volterra ^.^ Also, do you want to be tagged?
There is a brief lull between the rolling thunder and in it he hears an earthly echo of the storm's music. It is a challenge. He turns towards the sound, uncertain for a moment before a flash of lightning reveals a glimpse of a dark silhouette in the rain, closer than he expects but far enough for his purposes.
He does not see the dragons or he might have thought better of accepting.
Instead he lets the rage of the storm carry lightning to his blood. The shine of his coat is transmuted by the deluge of water, turning him from a figurine of pearl into a spectre in the dark. Pale hooves cut into the field and he wheels until the rain is behind him. The wind seems to push him, urge him forward. His body stretches, lengthens. His blood ignites. The impact of the ground all but disappears in the drum of his heart and the way the storm seems to shake the very air. His reply is not a roar but a scream like a striking falcon, a sharp crack of lightning to echo the thunder.
The other stallion is not so much taller than him but still Seanan rears his forelegs half off the ground, front hooves striking out at where he believed the other stallion's left side is, the driving rain behind him. His momentum is barely checked by his hind hooves digging into the slick grass and mud. Quick as a viper his muzzle strikes forward, ivory teeth trying for the muscular black withers he knows must be there somewhere, in the dark, over the broad back. He is striking for control.
He is under no illusions as to his chances. The glimpse the lightning showed him was a warrior of the kind that has no place in the desert. In heat and driving sands, perhaps Seanan would have the advantage. That doesn't matter right now. This is a dance and Seanan is eager to perform.
OOC://
@Volterra
473 words
1/3 Attacks 0/1 Closing Defense
Summary: Seanan comes at Vol's left side, with the driving rain behind him. He half-rears and lashes out with his front hooves and tries to bite at Vol's withers, barely checking his momentum.
I don't really care either way about magic or companions :) Seanan has neither, but I don't really care about this being 'fair', haha. Whatever you think would be more in character for Volterra ^.^ Also, do you want to be tagged?
All interactions are go, short of death and permanent crippling.
