Regardless of whatever hurts assault her, the tough bitch still pins her eyes on me as I come in for my third barrage, and even moves to meet me, so that we become a clamorous meshing of sinew to metallic alloys.  My skin is swiftly dusted in sea-spray that is cold in the late winter wind which howls and roars about us, but it’s a pleasant distraction, a much preferred sensation to the rough whumph! of my shoulder and hers meeting.

"Ouch!" I yelp with surprise, because the forgotten stone certainly does not forget to be hard as, well, a rock, and digs into my shoulder as the deranged bird and I plough into one another, leaving a very small, but stupidly painful for its size, bruise.  It steals away some of the usual pride I have in myself for scoring solid hits, to have squealed like a wounded filly.  As her body gives under the pressure of mine, I surge forward into the gap without thought as to how she might counter.

My teeth reach out as we become surging parallels, and grasp firmly some of her feathery mane, which are quite easily ripped away (like hair! I think to myself with surprise).  Sputtering to rid the horrible, fluffy and slick all at the same time objects from my mouth, I am swiftly buffeted across the face by her stiff, outer feathers as she jettisons her wings out; their tips and flat, soft sides skitter across my cheek, neck, and swiftly shuttered eyelids with an alien embrace.  Balking, literally forced to a stop by the stupendously wrong sensation of the feathers, I snort, and toss my head downwards, as if I could just, you know, throw the feeling off.

It doesn’t work.  It also does little to stop the swing of her haunches from sending her hooves into my metal plated shoulder at full velocity, either, again jabbing the rock into my skin, and bludgeoning the rest with a quick bitch slap from my own equipment.  The sound of her hooves rings though the air, bites through the wicked wail of the wind, and almost covers up the shout of pain that is projected from my lips.

Sure, it’s not as bad as a stab wound, but what the fuck?!  My left hoof comes off the earth without being asked to, and the double bruised muscles in my shoulder temporarily lock up, and throb with spasms.  The opponent keeps moving to the shore, and so I know I have to, too, but my leg won’t cooperate; snorting with frustration and pain both, I simply hop my first few steps, before the muscle’s revolt is ended, and I can limp my way through the rest of the battle.

Note to self:  Don’t battle with rocks in your armor…

I charge forward to meet her as she comes back around, and rushes my right side.  Pulling hard left as she seems to pull back on her speed (for what? I wonder, deciding to risk the maneuver I’d had in mind anyway), her barrage of sand and shells sprays wildly on the wind, and pelts small debris against my side and ass, my shoulder screams and nearly buckles underneath me as I tilt my weight forward, my own hind legs kicking out roughly, with toed-hooves tucked together, in the general direction of the pegasus mare’s right shoulder or flank.  Breathing a sigh of relief as the my hind hooves come back down, and can again help my poor shoulder out, I don’t hesitate before I move into phase B, eager to close the battle before another of my limbs is out of commission.  While the kick might miss, my magic never has yet, and I eagerly delve into my will to pull out my most reliable tool, wondering if she’s had a taste of the Spark magic yet.

Bundling the wicked ball of energy up inside myself, I mentally hurl it back at her, using Duir’s swift, mental image of the two of us (from where he stands nearby) to gauge just about where she is.  Of course, I can’t look through his eyes and use my magic at the same time, so she could decide to move at the last moment…

Regardless, I don’t hang out with my back turned to her for long.  I turn around as quickly as my lame shoulder will let me, the wind whipping my forelock wildly about my face; I angle my left shoulder away from her, not all that eager to have a bruise on top of a bruise, on top of a bruise, because I’ve never had one, and I’m not about to start today, but otherwise wait for her to come to me, my legs restlessly moving.  

3/3 | 796
[ OOC:  He uses his secondary magic here!
:: [ 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. ]