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We are both breathless to say the least. Yet I feel like the one who could use more oxygen; every strained nerve is humming passionately with each stable thrust of dual wings, and they scream for more O2. As if my gasping did nothing to appease their hungry desires. Even the tiny whiskers and hair follicles are standing straight up—like I had just been electrocuted. Of all the discomforts, (heat included, for by now a pool of wet was sliding tickling sweat from beneath the heavy layer of steel around my neck), I feel…thirsty for more, though that admittance would never be said aloud, mostly due to my humble nature by design. Though, even I am honest enough to say that there is a base sensation which is somewhat smug when flashing orbs glimpse this beloved Sultana take a dose of brainwork actually panning out. For the first time since our spar commenced….I can actually taste a thin shot of victory shoot through my veins and into a fast thumping heartbeat. It is encouraging to know that even Kri can get off balance and flustered.
I steady myself in the air, flapping hard to maintain lift without so much drive once she is dropping out of the sky. Curiously wary I follow her with my eyes—trying to keep this sky goddess from leaving my line of sight, and simultaneously plan for another attack. It was well understood at this point that a mistake would be corrected with my hide stinging, and when I landed upon proper footing—my reward would be seeing Kri fly head-over-heels. That little win was short lived though, my Sultana recovered with familiar stubbornness that was her trademark attribute. Barely, I had barely enough time to start a foxy little grin before she is launching toward me again. It doesn’t take long to calculate her possible direction, and on cue my body shift’s its weight to the left when I notice that her aim was leading more toward the right. Wings buckle up and down, stiffening hindquarters ready themselves for a possible chance at denting her side a little should she draw close enough. It has also already been learned that I cannot hope to match her speed by flying up and away—(might I add the obvious that this knowledge was little comfort to someone who often relied on swift antics.) So my only options at this point are to, A. Come up with another brilliant plan like the one that sent her tumbling. Or B. Sit like a duck and wait for her to move first, counter and strike if able. She rises swiftly and my heart hammers with strained desire to somehow outmaneuver this situation. Flight or fight. As if I had a choice.
Clicking my stained teeth together I thrash fore hoof’s and hind hooves against naked desert air as she draws closer, they don't move passionately enough to break something—but with enough oomph that even she might think before sliding under golden daggers. My wings slap together, vainly pulling me forward and left for all I am worth to put distance between us. Neck twists cranium backwards with teeth gashing, both ears are slammed against my skull and nothing but the whistling wind warns of what fresh teaching she plans to reward my last efforts with. It isn’t enough space. She closes the distance before I can lean all the way. I know this, because her chocolate muscled shoulder somehow ends up still butting the right side of my lower barrel and jolting local organs in close vicinity.
I nearly bite my tongue off as a rush of pained air escapes at a hiss. Searing pain slips its way across my lower abdomen, my body is sent far left from her impact. Butterflies hitch a ride with the bruising as I strive to relax my wings enough for one of my only options; roll or fall, the world pivots on its axle and I can feel the wind rush around me—signaling that I’ve likely dropped a few feet while gaining balance. Riding through obvious discomfort I try to use what strength remains and clap down hard. Using both wings to an advantage, while praying that she hasn’t been expecting my frame to suddenly start rolling away. Stashing my right wing in and taking the acceleration, I tumble into a tight roll by leaning far left and thrust out with all limbs in hopes of striking a set of shoulders or back. My right wing is also slightly extended, a vain attempt to upset the air around her as well. It wasn’t fair that only one of us should be working to stay aloft.
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I've totally forgotten to add what buffs I was using. Oh well :'D! | |
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![[Image: 5388c9b80fe59]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5388c9b80fe59)
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[JUDGED] See it rise [Training spar, Boom]
