The sensation of having his hooves connect with skin-clad bone was an odd one indeed today. On one hand it was very satisfying, seeing as his choice of attack had been correct and landed where intended, but on the other hand he didn't really wish to hurt this stallion. They held no grudges against one another, wasn't quarreling about anything. The grimace of pain Lace noticed on Azzuen's face caused him to hesitate, pause in the trampling of the legs for a fraction of a second. Had he gone too far? Did he do too much?
He ultimately payed for that mistake as a retaliating pegasus managed to land a few scrapes of his own in the efforts to get away. Hissing on exhale, the silver grulla felt the stinging sensation as skin was scabbed away from his left cannon, adding to the dull throbbing of the ribs.
The pain was good though. It washed away the moment of hesitation like a mouthful of dry grass would drain away from the throat with a chug of water. Only, in this case it was a water consisting of annoyance over himself, for bringing emotions into a fight like a green colt. After all these years, he should know better than to go too easy on an opponent; in the end, he'd always suffer for it himself. And in a friendly spar like this one, he'd do the General a disservice by not coming at him properly - what would they gain by turning it into nothing but a dance?
It felt better when the second attack landed and his mouth became filled with a mixture of feathers and skin. The pained bellow of a cry erupting from the black steed didn't bother him this time, and while the grip wasn't overly hard, Lace did his best to hang on to the joint as Fajira swooped down, realizing her attack would come despite the silence that echoed between them.
Oh, how well they knew one another.
What he didn't know about, what none of them knew, was that Azzuen had a concealed weapon in his arsenal. Fajira realized it only when an invisible force flung her backwards, away from the broad target and all but nullifying her attack. The squawk she made as she tumbled back into the air was a mixture of surprise and dismay upon realizing that her claws held nothing but a few tufts of coarse equine hair.
As for Lace, he barely realized it at all. He was too busy with the fact that his prey was escaping, managing to tear himself free - leaving the Glazier with a mouthful of down and a strange prickling sensation in the lips, as if he'd tasted water struck by lightning. Curious, but nothing he had time to dwell over now.
Ceasing his backward movement, black hooves found traction against the moist green ground once more just in time to see how the other stallion threw himself into a forward leap. Their positions were familiar, the initiating jump to gain momentum one he had seen many times before. Recollections from earlier battles told the white-maned veteran how the other would most likely touch down with the forelegs, swing the rear around and launch a kick... It was a basic move, very common but also quite tricky to avoid.
There was a choice to make. Either try to back off and risk having those powerful rear hooves smack the underside of the head, veer to the left and perhaps get hit squarely in the chest... No, he would do neither of them.
Instead, he gathered himself and leaped to counter the others move, aiming for a point ahead and slightly to the left of himself. It brought him out of reach of the kick, but also rattled him as the massive bulk of the pegasus smacked into the right side. Air was pushed from his lungs with a wheezing sound, Lace sidestepped slightly to regain his balance - and watched Azzuen charge forward with a hearty chuckle, out of range and thus ending the bout.
He couldn't help but laugh too as he slowly began to follow the other, even though the shoulder ached from the stab of the spear and the impact with the heavy soldier, even though he was out of breath and the legs dirtied by mud and grass and stinging scrapes. It didn't matter; it felt good, to know that he'd held his own and not shamed himself.
And really, wasn't this just a lovely spring day? Fajira certainly seemed to think so, judging by her jubilant cries that echoed across the Meadow.
[Word Count: 775 Lace received a scrape down the left cannon. Fajira was pushed away by the magic. Lace countered the barrel-roll kick by jumping forward and to the left, landing side by side with Azzuen and colliding with his rear end.]
L A C E and F A J I R A
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[ Judge ] Bodies to the test
