WE WERE STRONG.
we stayed bright as lightning. we sang loud as thunder.
we moved ever forward.</style>
I was more or less unaffected.

Personally, Tio had not frightened me with his threat. If anything, he had just pissed me off. Threatening my family is probably the fastest and easiest way to find me a flaming bitch after your ass. Whatever the reason, I had allowed Tio to leave. Perhaps, I should have finished the deed that day on the outskirts of my home. I should have stopped him from leaving and crushed his skull into the dirt. However, I almost wanted to see him try to take my home from me. This land was not as important to me as its people, but I was confident in my kin's ability to protect what was rightfully theirs. Whatever army Tio would find would never be able to tackle the Throat. They would fail in whatever attempt to wrest the crown from my head and place it on that stallion's empty head.

I am still not certain of his reasoning for giving us a forewarning of his presence. It was idiotic, stupid, and ultimately would make his mission to invade impossible. I would not lose heart, no matter how long his fat ass took to gather up the strength to fight, without the Grey to fall on for support. All of his actions seemed to supercede any particular logical thought. I was not known for my logical thinking, instead my fiery passion, but this was not to say that I abandon reason and sanity. I was not so arrogant in my abilities that I allowed myself to be a fool and pick up the pieces later. Life had taught me long ago that your foolish actions will not be of as much consequence to you as the others that it kills. Idiocy in battle loses friends, loses your strength, loses your heart. One thing was certain: I would not lose them.

My dark eyes watch the sunrise with a bitterness born of restless energy. I was tired of waiting to no end, watching day in and day out come. However, I was proud to see so many of my valiant warriors rise to the challenge. One by one, each rose in their determination, pledging to protect this home, pledging, all the more importantly, to protect one another. This is why, despite my relatively sour mood on this fresh new day, I greet the face which walks toward me with a smile. Midas, the second General, his face worn from a worry that I knew little about. Onni had shared with me the news of Cera's poisoning, but the painted stallion of black, white, and gold had mentioned nothing of this misfortune to me directly. I was unaware the angst on his face was caused by this turmoil, and instead I believe it is due to the threat of Tio.

"Good morning, Midas," I say calmly, my voice reaching a deep sound, but one of happiness. I found that I was most at peace around my brothers in arms, as they were protection for me as well of all those I kept safe. I smile, the expression drawn and slightly sad, for we are both in a lowly state of a mood. "It looks to be another beautiful day." Drawn with my wings close around me, I tilt out my head to nudge his neck, as if to snap him out of whatever dark reverie was in his mind. "Are you alright, brother?"
""

WE WERE STRONG.
we stayed bright as lightning. we sang loud as thunder.
we moved ever forward.</style>
I watch his face inquisitively, but feel the ice in his touch. Instead of warmth for family, he harbors no sense of summer in the golden eyes that look back toward me. I balk at his attempt to fool me with sentimental gestures. If there was anything I detested in this world, it was a liar. Still, I cannot say that Midas is lying to me out of a manipulative purpose. Perhaps, this is his self-defense, or perhaps I am too sensitive. Still, the ice which lingers in the corners of the sunlit eyes makes me cringe inside my skin. My heart would spill out all of its blood to erase the emptiness that plagued his expression, to return a joyous smile on the features of my general. Family. What is this concept I lock so tightly away in my chest? I will likely never be able to name it, but I can certainly feel the ties like chains in my bones.

I am bound to them. A dragon and her precious treasures.

I nod in his response to war, but my eyes look out toward my homeland, imagining the spilling of enemies past our borders. I shrug. "We of the Throat have the hearts of lions," I say, my lips easing into a broad smile. "There is no need to worry about battle." We will not lose. My eyes flit over to look at Midas in the periphery, only to see him retreating from my side and speaking familiar words. My grin grows broader, and I watch as he readies for take off. My own wings begin to unfold as I lift my weight onto my haunches, swerving my front end down and hitting the red dirt with hooves of haste. I flap once, twice, catching the natural winds of the desert and rising, my hooves lifted from the ground as I am propelled forward my the strength and grace of my feathered limbs. I do not rise far, allowing Midas to sail on, keeping myself steady, trying to remain below him as I race his shadow with my own.

I then curve my flight sharply upward, slanted left, climbing in the air toward the left wing of Midas, bending my neck in preparation. I continue my path up in altitude, directing my flight toward the underside of Midas's left wing, attempting lodge my body full speed onto it and up, which might send the painted stallion twirling off into the sky. Hopefully, this would be a strong enough attack to knock the fog from his head and get him to open his eyes and look toward me. I would not injure my friend, but he was sorely mistaken if he thought my definition of nice was gentle. At the time the curved top-line of my neck would meet with the wing if my aim was true, I launch a soft kick toward the left rump of Midas, to further help in throwing his flight off balance and bringing his attention to the present without dealing him serious injury.

Just as with Azzuen, I would show Midas the full extent of my will.
""

[ WC: 552; 1/3; No magic or companions.
Kri will be using buffs SWIFT and AIM. ]

WE WERE STRONG.
we stayed bright as lightning. we sang loud as thunder.
we moved ever forward.</style>
The brush of feathers against my neck is soft, lingering on my skin for a moment until they slide off, my back hooves darting out to land upon Midas, though with my neck tucked tight across my best and my eyes closed to keep any unwanted feathers to land in them, I miss the exact aim. The gentle strength of my kick does not allow for the shudder I am used to accompanying the movement in short succession, and I slide easily out of the grasp of Midas, as he offers litter resistance to my tactics. Free of his clutches, I sail upward for a few more moments before curving my body, evening my trajectory into a more easy glide, my mind searching for the stallion with a look of annoyance.

The allowance of my body to collide so easily into his does not go unnoticed, and I am frustrated that he would invite me to battle without fervor. I am not the opponent you want to face halfheartedly. The passion of my own heart will consume you.

Whatever the case, my small painted general seems to have been knocked back into reality by my quick attacks, his face shaking off the fog and his golden eyes growing more alert. His lithe build would make him fast in the air, but I felt that my immense training would leave me advantaged still. After all, four years cannot hope to catch up to nine in experience overnight. I watch him for a few moments as he rises, dark gaze steely as it settles before me, ears cocked back and searching through the screech of wind for the sound of his whistling feathers in order to locate him.

More than the whistling is the presence of chill on my back, a shadow, as he soars above me, and I smile. I prepare myself, wings feeling out the air as they curve, preparing for the move that I had used against Azzaron to evade an attack launched from above. As his comes to lay his barrage upon my backside, I begin to curve. My body swings like a wave sideways toward the right, his teeth missing the top-line of my neck and falling instead toward the the left side, well guarded by a thick, blonde mane which whips wildly about in the wind as it rushes over my body. The attack, already kept from violent force, does little more than ruffle a few hairs and pinch the skin for a brief moment before I pull away. His hooves chase after my sinking left wing, brushing the feathers ever so gently, like a kiss from a lover, before they separated, my own body curving upward and over.

I allow this wave of movement, willingly, to carry me up and about, a barrel roll in the sky that brings me farther in altitude until the sparse clouds of the blue sky above are almost close enough to touch. It is when my descent begins from the roll that I try to wind it tight, attempting to achieve a higher altitude than that of Midas. I swoop down, chasing after the tail of my beloved General, trying to hold myself up above him, legs tucked, until we are nearly stacked in the sky. My wings attempt to match his for flight, though the turbulence of each of his flaps tips me a little off balance. We would be head to head, tail to tail, should I be properly aligned, and that is when I push down with my back legs toward his rump gently, my own front end throwing upward to avoid the rise of his own body should I hit my target. I extend my front legs, aiming to have them push upon his broad shoulders if my first attack was a success, my jaws snapping out briefly for his neck.

Let's have some fun.
""

[ WC: 650; 2/3. ]

WE WERE STRONG.
we stayed bright as lightning. we sang loud as thunder.
we moved ever forward.</style>
Target.
Lock.
Fire.

My hooves touch down on Midas's shoulders, sliding along his broad shoulders and bruising the flesh, from the feel of the force as we propel forward still. However, I realize now why it is often a bad idea to fly so close to another. Despite my best efforts to fly in time with the General, his actions are not something I can predict entirely. His wings shoot up and lock unexpectedly before tugging the air, his figure sliding from my grey hooves as my chest flies forward toward the back of his head, the same one he may be losing if he is not quick to duck.

It is some miracle that I manage to throw my wings up straight fast enough to avoid them colliding with his own, but unfortunately my flight is disrupted. Like a child cast from the back of a wild bull, I am tossed from above him and out into open air. My frame does not stop and my front end rolls forward ungracefully. I snort in frustration as I begin to drop. That queasy sensation of falling and losing your bearings begins to clutch my gut and twist, a knife in my belly. Damned be unexpected surprises, for they are little more than tools your opponent fucks you over with. After my flash of panic, however, the grit of my soul captures my heart again and sets the violent rush of adrenaline to good use, my wings straightening and catching my body before I spiral down, helpless, toward the earth below.

"Fucking hell," I whisper under my breath before I let out a joyous chuckle, flying forward again. My General has duped me, and yet I am more proud of him than I have ever been. I twisted grin on my face as I glance back in time to see him soaring, wings beating feverishly to usurp my air currents and turn them against me. My already uneasy balance in tentative now that I do not have predictable winds to rely upon, but I am a stubborn bitch, if you know nothing else about me. I set my teeth to edge and throw my wings up, flapping ceasing as my heavy form drops like a stone in the air for a good twenty feet before I catch myself, now underneath my General once more.

Before I have a moment to catch a breath, regardless if it may be ill of me to ignore my rapid breathing, I launch back upward, wings tearing through the sky to pull me up, speed increasing as I tilt right, aiming to rise along the right side of Midas. When my head should be to the level of his knees, I harshly turn back in left, curving my neck to protect my face, folding my wings to evade potential kicks, and throwing my left shoulder toward the soft fleshy underside of the midsection of his right barrel. I pray that thrashing wings do not beat down upon me, but to hell with it already. Reckless, but unexpected.

Two can play that game.
""

[ WC:537; 3/3; SWIFT and AIM. ]

WE WERE STRONG.
we stayed bright as lightning. we sang loud as thunder.
we moved ever forward.</style>
The beat of my heart against my ribs. A pleasing sound in my mind, though many may find it rather disturbing. The heat of battle in my veins is what causes me to ignore the breaths I tug between my flaring nostrils, the sweat upon my frame. I ignore it simply because in battle there is little need in monitoring your vitals. Even if you know you need to slow, when your opponent lingers about you, a lion posed to strike, you keep going, no matter how your lungs wheeze. That steadfast determination and pull, that is what I live for. That is why I am the Resolute. A warrior who never hesitates.

Midas would find that out right about now.

I can feel golden eyes upon me as I rise more than I can see the glint of his own determination. Regardless of the silent warning of his gaze, the whistle of hooves through air, my pursuit continues. I race upward, feeling a hoof pelt my left shoulder. My face seems to wince, but I do not stop, my neck curling away with the shoot of pain, only to feel another hoof hit upon my barrel on the left, near my midsection. A clean, shallow cut for my barrel, probably a bruise for the shoulder, and a good dose of healthy pain to remind me that I am still alive. The cool, thin air stings upon my ripped flesh, but that discomfort is hushed by the gratifying feeling of my left shoulder pummeling into the underside of Midas. I think I hear a hitch in his breath, but I can't be certain. The air from my lungs is expelled harshly too with a rather masculine grunt, but followed with a fiesty grin.

The black and white painted form sloughs away from me even as I am pushed away by our collision, but I quickly jerk my body right and flap hard upward, trying to get out of the range of my opponent and dear friend. I drop my eyes quickly to search the skies for my General, ascertain that my last attack has not robbed him of his ability to fly. It is then that I see his body curve tightly left, hooves poised to strike even as I tuck mine in tight to my barrel. The quick flight upward is ultimately what saves me from a strike hitting my legs, and for that I laugh. The sound is joyous, but growing hoarse in the thin air of high altitude.

"You fight with fire, my brother!" I shout down below. My body begins to race forward and then circle, aiming to return to the soft crimson sands of the desert below. You fight with the heart of a Dragon.
""

[ WC:460; Closing Defense; SWIFT and AIM. ]