Ophelia's horn rose like a mountain in the mists, lonely and distinctive - treacherous.
A cry of alarm sounded from Ampere's lips as she banked swiftly to her right, her left wing flaring open to swerve her dive. It was not fast enough though and her right forelimb still grazed the violent mountain, opening up the flesh on the outside of her cannon.
Blood drizzled behind the faltering plane.
The ground began to rush at her and Ampere knew her altitude was forsaken. Gulping back the fear lodged in her throat she shut her electric eyes and brought in her left wing with a shove, tail feathers flexing, so that she spun about in a barrel roll. It would hopefully cut the pain of the impact by letting her slide rather than crash. In as much as she could Ampere also aimed for swampy waters which should prove softer than dried mud and rot.
The water embraced her with a cold grip and wet applause; waves breaking around her with an echoing rush. Blue eyes flew open in the din of the dead, wings buckling as they fought to gather air and haul her back to the surface. Amidst it all the snow princess darted in for one final jab at an already skewered bull. Like a ghost she dashed in and out, her horn playing against Ampere's ribs like a xylophone.
Ampere didn't feel the hurt at first, her neck bulging as she strained for air and thrashed in the decaying soup. It wasn't until she broke the surface and leapt back onto the bank, her body stretched out in that brief movement, that she felt the gruesome gash in her left side. Couple with all her other injuries and the frenzy of aborted flight at risk of drowning, she lost all her resolve and endurance.
Ampere collapsed on the shore of the graveyard, her legs crumpling beneath her and her body going down heavily - a miracle her wing did not snap under her.
For a time Ampere enjoyed the darkness and the calm of unconsciousness and part of her felt she could enjoy it forever.
Yet another part screamed,
NO!
She was not dead, not close to it even, not yet at least. Her wounds would likely fester, the red line on her left barrel especially deep and menacing with all the swamp ooze infecting each curve of the wound. Ampere was merely overwhelmed and despite all her boastful words and witty remarks she was no warrior yet, Taz had always tried to tell her as much.
Smirking into the mud Ampere roused a fair bit later, mildly bewildered but hale enough. Regardless of her surroundings she fled into the skies with a torrent of her wings, the waterproofed feathers sloughing off the dampness of the swamp.
The remaining thought Ampere had as she abandoned the area was that she was beaten by such a dainty girl of all things,
how shameful.
Perhaps she'd go back to the Throat for another bath.
W: 509
closing defense
Ampere passes out at the end.
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[complete] Smash the Floor [open spar]
