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02-23-2017, 10:12 PM
The flaxen father did not pass into impatience, for soon, his call was answered.
As silent as a blade she had waded across the ocean of drying grass, the psithurism of grass clashing against one another being the only sound to be heard aside from the deafening, shuddering roar of the wind. The chiropteran who was always found fluttering above the physician remained in flight and, for the most part, unfazed by the gale. A kite whirling in the breeze was Peatree; a bat who so loved sad weather. The cloak and dagger that approached Tilney was now upon him, and it was only as he turned his ashen muzzle that he beheld the challenger. Manon; someone he would least expect to see here of all places. He imagined her to be a sweet girl. Quizzical and curious with her own marvellous set of secrets - but still sweet. Fighting, in his opinion, was not for the meek or the sweet. It was for the brutish and the unwise. The gent had little time to react, however. He could give no ‘hullo!’ or ‘salutations’, for the fierce woman had already begun to strike. Shying his head away, his hooves and legs tearing upwards with it, Tilney let out a short-lived grunt from the pit of his stomach. Truthfully, the stag was quite shocked. One moment he was standing peacefully astride a windswept hill and now it was to be desecrated with his blood - and, at the hands of the last creature in all of Helovia he’d expect to see there. Perhaps his plan to spar just anyone had been badly thought out, premature, and just horribly executed. And as the consequences of his actions began to sink in, so did Manon’s hooves. The brute’s head could not reach high enough, and in return was given a slice upon his jowl by the intercepting hind hooves of his opponent. The pain was bearable, the wound superficial at most; how lucky he had been that she had not struck him in the eye. “A risky move!” Tilney chanted towards the svelte doe, his cloven hooves pressing into the dirt towards her. Lowering his crown, hardly a moment passed before Tilney attempted an attack of his own. His recovery had been brief, thought still the remarkable cut on his jowl still bothered him even as he began to charge. Antlers bowed and at the ready, Tilney attempted to plunge forth into the mare and ram her directly in the shoulder with his sharp tendril of horns. An attempt at a simple, direct attack; he could only hope it would play in his favour. ooc; 1/3 - 450 words Manon's attack hits him in the jowl after he tries to avoid it. he then attempts to ram her with his antlers in the shoulder. damage: 2 - gash on his jowl, heavy bleeding. -5.5 hp = 59.5
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Wander or Leave
turn in to winter lights
☀︎
