[ pride challenge, Mauja vs @[Hestia] & @[Tonka]. this takes place prior to the "DEAD MAGIC" plot, as well as Tonka's capture. as this does not affect anyone's freedom, we're allowed to pre-date it and play it out. standard challenge rules apply; admin, is it 72 hours for Tonka AND Hestia, or 72 hours for them each? ]

They played it like a beautiful game, and he loathed them for having him dancing to their tune – hated them, for robbing him of his control and reducing him to nothing but a base, feral creature. The anger in his blood would not be denied, it broke down the barriers and dark rage drowned his pale eyes. "I do not feel like watching a spar today." The pacifying statement was lost on Mauja, his mind snarling that it wouldn't be a spar if I gutted you, and without even thinking about it, he jerked a step closer, the carpet of dead leaves rustling under the snow as he stepped on it. Come back, he wanted to snarl at the retreating Assassin leader, but no words left his mouth. His jaws felt cold, locked together, and as if through a haze he realized that they were clenched tightly together, painfully so. Every emotion was on display, parading across his normally serene features; it made his skin crawl. This wasn't who he was. It would only give them the satisfaction of knowing that they'd riled him up. Take a breath, close your eyes, and walk away. That would be the best. Forget about this whole instance, curl up in a dark corner somewhere and whimper and wonder where your control went.

"Dough Boy is nothing to fear anyways."
I'll show you fear.

It wasn't a conscious thought. It wasn't even a decision.
It just happened.

Somewhere, his fury peaked, and the cold flood of power rushed through his mind, obliterating sanity and releasing in a breath-taking climax that darkened his vision. A split second's warning was all she got, four tips of ice breaking through the snow's crust and slamming into the sky, easily surpassing her in height. One, below her head, two beneath her center, and a fourth by her hind legs, a deadly pattern wanting to split her skin and spill her hot blood on the cold, hungry ice.

[ 1/4 :: 329 words. ]
Buffs Active: Endure & Swift

The sandy mare crumbled like a piece of paper in an angry fist, the thud of flesh against snow-covered ground coming in through his ears; he'd flicked them forward, as if politely listening to the sounds she made as she lost the game. The world was still dark around him, his heart almost trembling in his chest, a twitching aftermath to that mad release. It left him feeling weak, limbs nearly quivering, as if that one, cruel stroke had spent him. Somewhere in the fathomless bottom of his soul, the magic recuperated, gathered itself closer and closer, deathly cold and such a stark contrast to the violent heat of his blood. After all, he was no real angel, just an emissary haunted by winter; he did not tame and bend ice to his will- it rode his soul like the devil night-witches riding unfortunate men, a cold, savage wolf hunger always snarling in the back of his mind until it found the path, triggered the reaction, and spilled blood.

And like a sated wolf it became dumb and heavy; eyes spaced out and wide, he ought to be thankful that Tonka wasn't a quiet killer. Otherwise, maybe he'd been lying on his side with his brains bashed out now. As it was, the maddened shout flew like an arrow through his consciousness, black pupils contracting as he found his place in the world again – and my, what a sight it was he returned to: Tonka's ass coming his way.

Apparently, Tonka didn't like others messing with his new recruits.
Mauja probably wouldn't have liked it, either, but he would like to keep his skull intact. Frosted hooves shuffled over the hard-packed snow, every fiber of his being yearning, and leaning, left, away from Tonka's hind hooves; they traced the bony plane of his shoulder on their way up, rubbing white hairs off and leaving his skin raw, friction-hot, but beyond his withers they found only air. A mingled wince and growl rumbled in his chest as Mauja sidled further away; it was hardly even worthy of being called an injury, but it was an unpleasant sensation all the same, a wake-up call to the sleeping monster. The anger, the senseless fury, had been spent, but it seemed like he'd woken the devil in Tonka, and had another foe to contend with; someone who would most likely be more dangerous than the downed mare. Desperately, he reached for his own anger again, needing the adrenaline of rage, and not only of pain.

"She made some wrong choices," he rumbled at the Andalusian beast, flat and unforgiving, recalling the shout which had shaken him from his stupor. It was probably for the best, anyway. Kri wouldn't have wanted her. Kri would've laughed at her.

Mauja could laugh, too, but it was just a humorless smile as Tonka declared an exchange of pain – because that was what it was, Mauja wasn't about to stand still and take his jabs. If he wanted to defend a useless piece of flesh crumpled on the floor, he'd have to take the pain.

Besides, Mauja thought it was a fairly mutual thing; he simply chose to spell it out in his body, ice-cold precision and that ever-present black blood-hunger, and not with his tongue. His drab grimace grew into a half-hidden, wicked grin as Tonka charged him, eyes drinking him in; Mauja was used to always being the bigger one, but the Andalusian charging him was taller. Barely, he thought as he danced lightly on the spot, knowing that he had no time to prepare anything grand; but then again, mostly everyone was faster than him, so that was nothing new, and maybe, just maybe, he still had the upper hand when it came to cramming power into a kick.

He'd just have to aim higher.
Grin.

The chaos unfolded again, a barely logical pattern; heat in his throat, in his eyes, in his heart, thrumming through his veins as he dove to the left, head canted down- give him a taste of his own medicine. Stand still and let him run onto his death, the tip of his icy horn poised to greet Tonka's body where the right shoulder met the neck, a different way to say hello to his heart, to find the way in beneath that shoulder plate of bone armor; a much more sinister welcome to the bloodshed than the silver tip flying past Mauja's right flank, only to puncture the flesh across his thigh like a line of fire, running millimeters beneath the skin and threatening to tear it open as the alicorn's diameter increased, and the white one's only thought as he felt the horn slide through his body was that's gonna hurt like hell coming out.

Bleed like hell, too.

[ 2/4 :: 800 words. ]

I didn't quite understand Tonka's horn shape, as the description doesn't offer any clarity beyond "twisted" (which in unicorn terms usually imply that natural twisting as it goes up, like a narwhal's) and it varies 50/50 on his images, so I'll assume it's straight. Also, one of the senior admins told me to treat Hestia as unconscious, given that's how characters who do not post within the time limit are usually handled in "chaos" scenarios. ^^