| Dragon's Throat Soldier |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.4 :: 4 |
| FennecFyre |
Aryel
I'm through accepting limits / 'cause someone says they're so.
Aryel had heard the call all right, and she wished she hadn't. Tucked up securely in the hollow depression in a mass of brambles and underbrush that was her favorite shelter, she only had a few errant drops of rain to contend with. She had fully intended to pass the storm there, until someone's cry came faintly from the direction of the Throat's sparring field. With a groan, Aryel stood up carefully, wings tucked to her side to prevent them from being pricked. Moving around in her little den had created a space large enough for her, but it was still rather snug. She was a Sergeant now, and if some blockhead wanted to fight in the rain she had to answer.
With an ill-tempered snort, she emerged from the brush and took off in a trot towards the sparring field. Ebony eyes cast a dubious glance up at the roiling sky, waiting for signs of thunder or lightning. Was it safe for flying?
The clouds seemed to sense her scrutiny and thundered warningly.
Nope.
At least the sparring field was nearby. She peered though the pouring rain, looking for the damned idiot that had issued the call. Her eyes fell on a bay pegasus stallion, a stocky brute with strange marks on his pelt and--good gods, was that a bone in his nose? He was Throat, but no Throat horse she had ever met. Must be new. Usually, she would've been pleasant when meeting another herd member, but the blue mare was grumpy and in no mood to be friendly. "If you wish to spar," she snapped, coming to a stop in front of him, "you should really wait until the damned rain abates." A cynical grin briefly curled her muzzle as her now-familiar fighting blood rose in her veins. If this stallion wanted to be tough by fighting in conditions like these, she'd match him. "Well, at least I'll have a reason to not go easy on you. Now, to business. I'm Aryel, Sergeant of the Throat and don't you forget it. You have a name, I'm assuming?"
When all the stallion did was issue a noncommittal noise and assume a battle stand, she snorted with contempt. A regular dumbass he is. Can't wait to give him a few nasty marks. "Right then. You'll be Urgh, since that's all you're capable of saying." Insult delivered, the fight began in earnest. She lowered her head and drew her wings in closely, starting her move by beginning to circle around the male at an angle, drawing closer as she trotted towards him. She kept her eyes locked with his, watching for any expressions that would betray an attack. When she neared his left side, she suddenly went from a slow, purposeful trot to a quick charge, head snaking out to aim a hard bite at his left flank, where it was sure to sting. She was aware of the proximity of his hooves, as well as his big ugly hammerhead and the big ugly teeth within, and wasn't sure which end was less dangerous. She twisted away to the far left in an attempt to jump back and avoid the counterattack that was almost certain to follow, whether by bite or kick, and when her rear was facing him she kicked upwards with her hind hooves, hoping to either hit him again in the barrel or discourage him from closing in. Mud spattered from her hooves as she kicked out, scattering towards Gaucho. Having her hind hooves off the ground caused her to loose traction, though, and she was slowed for a moment as she nearly tripped and had to right herself. This would be a difficult fight, she thought with a thread of worry. He was larger than her, and no doubt stronger, so she would need to rely on agility and sheer ferocity to compensate. While Aryel lacked little in terms of ferocity, the slithery, sticky mud that was streaming around them would severely hinder both of them when they moved.
"blah blah blah."
Some things I cannot change / but until I try I'll never know.
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Thanks for the good times, and no hard feelings for the bad times.
Vicer and Aryel's new threads never happened.
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Rain, rain go away. | Practise Spar, Aryel
