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The sight of the bay mare arriving drew a thin smile across the darkened lips of the golden trimmed femme, her head swiveling to meet her gaze with that of Zima's as she approached. Illynx took the time now to size up the bay unicorn, already aware of the advantage she had over her in age, but noticing she had a few inches on Illynx and was also relatively well toned for being as young as she was. There had been no prior experiences between the two of them that could predict how Zima would act in the face of a battle, but Illynx had already gleaned from her a strong compassion and warmth towards others, and also a resonating loyalty, which could be indicative of a sound, inspired soul within the confines of her trim bay body as well as a firm constitution.
The mare with the golden lock took in the words of her trainee with her slight smile still in place, iridescent eyes observing the glitter of enthusiasm behind the deeply blue eyes of Zima. She tried to remember her first battle, whether or not such a light had been behind hers, and while she couldn't remember for certain she knew that she had been thrilled to begin her true life. The question as to whether or not Zima would be successful in this field, it remained unanswered, but the simple fire in her gaze made anything possible. "It is my honor to forge strength into our herd," she said, not sure whether or not she could call Zima a friend or equal, as she could the others of the Plague. This mare was far too light hearted to be easily spotted as material for their covert mission, but a good strong back to defend the Basin with was equally as crucial as deepening the power of the Plague, and Illynx had found that talkative and kind did not always mean they weren't racist; it may have been that she simply disliked the cheerful nature of others, enjoying the stoic and jaded as companions more than she ever could mares like Zima. "Just pay close attention and refrain from actually trying to kill me," the golden speckled femme chuckled, reminding herself mentally not to accidentally maim her pupil in the training exercise, merely bruise her. She washed the smile from her face, seriousness replacing the jovial expression as her ears lowered back defensively, head snaking low as she turned in a quarter circle about Zima's frame.
"And now we begin," the words escaped her mouth like a hiss, a cloud of mist streaming from her parted lips as the breath leaped from her chest, simultaneously her body lunging hard to the right so that her body was parallel to that of Zima, crown alongside her rump and horn extended just past the end of her tresses. In a graceful sweep, Illynx's delicately crafted head tucked low, her hindquarters rising upwards and to the right to aim her hooves at Zima's chest or upper front legs; she wasn't sure where she would hit her at, never having fought an opponent of this particular height, but she was sure that the blow was within range of a strike should the other mare be unable to dodge it in time. She spaced her fore-hooves slightly wider apart than she normally would for balance, sacrificing some of the speed of her attack in order to assure that the buck did not wind up throwing her to the icy ground.
As soon as her hooves met soil again, she abruptly swung her hinds counter clockwise behind her so that the pair of unicorns were now shaped in a sort of L, with Illynx's head aligned at what she hoped would be Zima's hip, had the mare not moved out of range after the bucking attack. The gold laced femme snapped her teeth at the flesh presented before her, hoping to bruise the tender tissues and muscles; in a fluid motion from the lashing with her teeth, Illynx's golden blade was brought down heavily, aimed for the flat part of the mares rump. She knew she couldn't use it's deadly tip in this situation, but the use of the horn was still something she would have to teach Zima; as far as the unicorns arsenal went, the only thing potentially more dangerous was magic, and in Illynx's opinion the blade they were equipped with at birth was the most substantial weapon given to any of the three races, one of the main reasons why she held such firm belief in the strength of her people.
"Your horn," she began, finding a free moment to speak and not expecting Zima to reply, her voice mildly exerted from her quick movement, "is your most crucial tool, without magic." As she concluded the strike with her horn, Illynx made a move to shuffle backwards and away, keeping her face turned towards Zima's frame as her rear end tucked low underneath her, moving her back about four feet and out of strike range of the other mare's rear hooves. She chose now to elaborate, "But it cannot be relied on solely and you must be careful - it will break if you are not." A grim thought of certain warriors who collected pieces of those they had defeated came to her mind, her own queen in the forefront of the faces with her mane decor of teeth and feathers, but also equines and pegasi decorated with the beautiful, slender horns of her brethren; she had also heard of an unfortunate few who had broken theirs in battle, overly zealous for victory. She would not let it happen to her, not with breath still in her chest, but she had also been warned early in her life; there was no way to assure what Zima's family had taught her before she came to Helovia.
[ Post 1 of 4 - Summary: Illynx moves forward and attempts a buck at Zima's shoulder/upper right foreleg; she then attempts a bite and subsequent horn attack to her hip before moving back a few paces. ]
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[JUDGED] gilded blade;
