the Rift


Mosaic; [Caneo vs Cera]

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#1

What do the gulls know? Their creaking voices fill the air, but not with music. Not with anything worth hearing. Caneo watches them in silence as he treads across the sand, his thin mane rippling in the constant breeze. He knows this place; when last he visited, he sought something he now fears lost forever. It was as lonely then as it is now.

He moves like a ghost along the dunes, long-strided and near-silent, pale even against the sand. A piece of winter cast off from its native home, he shines coldly in the Tallsun day. The inherent brilliance of his coat burns bright and slick. And under that, he’s lean and narrow muscle, long bones and sharp angles, a boy made of wires grown at last into something else. He pauses as he crests one of the dunes and his long face swings into the wind, eyes narrowed to blue slits. He might wait, as he did long ago, but patience evaporates from his gaze. If he is no longer the boy, if his heart now clutches things in its teeth and refuses to let go... he must be prepared for the scavengers when they come.

The sound loosed from his throat is high and thin, an arrow fashioned from laughter. Thunder hides nowhere in his chest; even his battle cry is a narrow, swooping thing. Leaping from the top of the dune, he canters a handful of exaggerated strides before breaking to a trot. He has no desire to waste his energy fighting in deep sand, but the easier footing just beyond the water’s reach reminds him of home. His brain knows how to move in sand like this without conscious effort. And if he chooses proximity to water subconsciously as well... at least Caneo understands his routes.

He shakes his head as he moves, at once anxious and a little annoyed. Surely there is someone, in all the cluster of the Throat’s allies, who is willing to help break him, to crack what exists and in its place forge something new? Because Helovia is harmless, but Caneo doesn’t want to be. Because the next time he meets something with teeth, he wants to pull them out one by one and dismantle it.


we set them up all night
just to watch them falling


WC: 376/800
Post 0/3
Notes: Open spar! Prefer someone with a similar amount of vp, but eh. Setting is daytime, Endless Blue, hot with a slight breeze. Ophiria isn't with him.

* violence & magic use always permitted *
Do not tag Caneo unless you are starting a new thread you would like me to see! Thank you!


Cera the Golden Prince Posts: 419
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Ilaria :: Red Panda :: Heal Brit
#2
Cera
Go ahead, you're never gonna take me - you can bend but you're never gonna break me

Even as far west as Cera had ventured, the sun's scorching crusade had not faltered. Though he was bred and born in the desert regions of the Dragon's Throat, even Cera's fair skin could not withstand his Lord's power for long. Traveling by air had kept the heat from latching on too deeply, but grounded as he was in that moment, Cera felt as though he would melt through his hooves at any moment. The cries of the sea birds echoed across the vast, empty beach as if laughing at his plight. Only the hot breeze that swept across the water kept them aloft, and the Prince's wings ached with the desire to join them once more. His lithe body was made for the air, and he desired to race them across the foam of cresting waves. Energy seemed to haze inside him, a static screen of prickling need with no direction or available outlet. Even Ilaria was not around to help distract him or offer any suggestions. He was alone, blending into the sun-shot whiteness of the sand as he paced the harder-packed sand near the waves. 

The cries of the gulls are silenced by a piercing scream, a challenge that silences the prey as naturally as a stalking jaguar does in the forest. Cera's hide shivers in conflicted excitement and dread, recalling Misael's echoing call sounding much the same, and the broken wing he had suffered in their battle. Verdant eyes slitted against the sun and the glare from the water, head revolving slowly to place the challenger. It was no easy task, with how the figure was so naturally camouflaged by their surroundings. Cera could only hope his own sandy-spotted pelt would award him the same advantage. And it was only as he thought that that Cera realized he intended to answer the call. 

Both times previous to that moment, Cera's spars had ended in total disaster. Horrors that lived in the shadows of his mind had resurfaced to drag him back to the pits of remembrance, and instead of fighting chivalrously and with honor, he had degenerated into a wild thing that fought only for survival and blood. He trusted himself slightly more after his fight with Misael, but the trepidation in his heart was not extinguished as he lifted his pale lips to the sky and returned his sand-brother's call. 

Water splashed against his hocks as he loped down the water, wings tucked tight, preserving his energy. Caneo, his mind supplies as the pale bodice emerges onto the same strip of sand, the contrast of darkened earth and bloodless coat revealing his target. The comfort of knowing he is not engaging with a stranger brings a grin to the Prince's lips, adrenaline pairing with the restless static in his blood like a caffeine kick to the heart. Long legs stand him equal with Caneo, but he does not fear the older stallion running and testing the differences in their speed, not when he had so clearly called for an opponent. 

With a thought his armor emerges from his leg brace, ivory and silver surely gleaming obnoxiously as it slid into a perfect fit against his skin. Cera launched himself towards Caneo, not caring where he hit but shoving his right shoulder forward to try and slam the stallion off-center or into the water. His wings could help him escape if he needed to, so long as what had happened with Misael did not occur once more. With that reminder Cera tucked his wings in ever tighter, eyes and teeth flashing as he tried to grab skin wherever he could, whether his shoulder had connected or not. 

And for once did not worry about succumbing to his demons. 



Words: {622/800}
Attack: {1/3}

Image Credit
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#3

Fire and snow: such is the answering shot the beach sends him, glimpsed at first as nothing more than movement. Caneo stills. The way the serpent goes when she scents prey — he stills. His long face snaps toward the swift-running thing at the right edge of his vision and his nostrils flare as if to suck in anything but salt, wet and raw. Caneo thinks the boy will smell of sand when he gets close enough — sand and heat and the red, red scent of the blood tree crowning the Throat. Something like a smile crawls up one side of the silver creature's face. "Oh, good!" he says, and his tail lashes like a living thing behind him.

He doesn't run to meet the boy. His narrow weight falls back onto his haunches instead, and the fine skin bulges with sinew as he stares, measuring, thinking. He must learn to think more, and quickly, if he wants to get better at this. Caneo sees: a body long and thin (but not like his), wings (but clamped), and springy, athletic muscle rippling beneath the two-colored coat. The boy won't hit as hard as the last one did, but everyone hits harder than Caneo does. He snorts, his forelimbs churning lightly at the sand, and then something happens.

Glinting plates slide up from the boy's leg to cover his chest, his flanks, his stomach, his every sensitive place. Is that armor? It shines like danger in the sun, and wincing, Caneo turns his body a little further to the right, saving at least one of his eyes the thrill of taking in this new opponent directly. Son of a bitch, Caneo thinks, and his next breath is a hiss, and the distance between them diminishes rapidly. There's but one good thing Caneo can think of, as his hind hooves dig into the sand and his own body hurtles forward at last: all that plating must be heavy. It ought to make the boy slow.

Caneo still smiles, just a little.

"Are you scared of me?" he asks just a stride before they meet. The laughter in his voice is mocking. And with the deft precision of one who has run many miles in sand, who knows the way it lies beneath his hooves intimately, he digs in and leaps toward Cera's left, away from the water, away from the battering ram of that armor-clad shoulder. The breath of the boy's movement catches in Caneo's mane; the edge of that wing just brushes his silver side as he glides nimbly past, avoiding the attack altogether and saving his eyes from staring directly into that stupid armor. He blinks rapidly as he throws his head down and his haunches up, leaving a parting gift in the form of a hard, sideways kick aimed at the boy's head or at that nearest wing, whatever happens to actually catch the cloven hooves. It isn't important what hits so long as it hurts.


we set them up all night
just to watch them falling



WC: 496/800
Post 1/3
Notes: Yay! <3 @Cera

* violence & magic use always permitted *
Do not tag Caneo unless you are starting a new thread you would like me to see! Thank you!


Cera the Golden Prince Posts: 419
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.3hh :: 6 Years HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Ilaria :: Red Panda :: Heal Brit
#4
Cera
Go ahead, you're never going to take me - you can bend but you're never going to break me



Despite the term that runs along their skin like a brand, distinguishing them as Throat denizens through scent and passing familiarity, Cera holds no real knowledge or regard for this fellow. All his previous battles had been against souls he had known, aside Misael. There is no way for Cera to determine Caneo’s tactics, his personality. Whether he is sadistic or fair, playful or cruel. He may hold no regard for their fellowship forged by the Throat, and not hold back because of that. There are so many variables that Cera cannot account for, and surely Ilaria – if she were accompanying him – would have quite a lot to say about him still charging into battle against the silver stud. As it is, Cera can only feel the pounding of his heart and hooves, the static adrenaline the heat of the season imbues him with. He will overcome his deeply set issues with fighting, with sparring. Even if he has to throw himself headlong into each battle, as he does charging down the beach at the glimmer of pale skin coating his opponent.
 
Whatever the boy said was a blur in Cera’s pounding ears. He has never fought with his armor before, and it does slow him, though his hooves still know the easy give and catch of the sand beneath his hooves. Even if the sand of the Blue is not quite the same as the sand of the Throat. Whatever mockery dripped from the stallion’s lips was unheard, Cera’s mind already flicking to its next attack as his opponent stepped deftly away. While his armor was beneficial in blinding Caneo, Cera was not impervious to its gleam. It strikes across his vision, and he planted his hooves hard into the sand reactively, knowing his opponent would not give him time to adjust his stance and unwilling to be caught unaware. Instinctively the Prince continually kept his wings from the fray, arching them high despite the strain in his shoulders. I cannot be flightless. Not again. Misael’s devastatingly cruel blows had not been forgotten, making Cera paranoid and vengeful, and it is all that saves him.
 
Apparently all flightless Throat denizens are bitter and cruel enough to try and break the wings of their fellow brethren.
 
The sharp burst of light from where he tried to keep Caneo’s movements in his peripherals momentarily blinded him, and the stunning blow that landed hard on the very edge of his left scapula was so unexpected that a cry died in his strained throat. Even here there is pride, it seems.
 
There was no formal thought that clicked in his brain, as often happened to Cera when he charged into battle. He reacted instinctively to the pain he had been dealt, lashing out his own long, long legs blindly towards where Caneo had been with a rumble of primordial, hateful anger in his throat. Perhaps he would catch Caneo’s hind hock, impair his movement in equivalent exchange. Or maybe a rib or flank if the fellow had not had the sense to strike and run. Whatever pain the Prince’s opponent was dealt would not inspire guilt in the Golden. Whoever dared to take his wings from him again deserved every bit of suffering they received in return.
 
Cera quickly returned his hindquarters to the earth with that vow, his left shoulder screaming at the extra weight he had applied to it for the maneuver. There is no fracture, but the bone is bruised, swelling beneath the onslaught of attack even with the boy’s relatively lithe, pathetic stance. Lucky blow, Cera hissed angrily in his head, shifting his weight quickly to his hind end as he spun agilely to the left, determined not to let the stallion get away. If the pale fellow had not landed directly on the edge of his bone, Cera’s movement would not have been impaired. But his hind end, powerful Saddlebred blood humming in his veins, had not been forfeit. Cera lunged forward towards the other stallion, teeth brattily seeking the crest of the leonine tail settled between Caneo’s shapely rump. He wished the brute had hair there to pull and yank, sour and bratty with the petty cruelty of his fellow members. His own failures. If he had to yank Caneo to the earth by his ass, so be it.
 
 

Words: {722/800}
Attack: {2/3}

Notes: Brit sucks at past tense battle writing, why did I do this to myself

Image Credit


@Caneo
Please only tag starting posts, spars, and threads collecting dust!

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#5
Time limit exceeded. Caneo defaults. Cera earns 0.5 VP.
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode


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