Imogen and Lena were alike in many regards, but in this instance, it was her lack of pleading for help, for healing, for soothing balms against the intense force descending upon her small form. She, as both so often did, suffered in silence. The indignation of the Pegasus hit the ivory kitsune, teeth ensnared over her lithe, tender frame, the rapid toss, and the feeling of the immobile tree as she impacted its trunk caused the briefest whine, before a chilling, haunting reverberation of quietude. Lena wasn’t permitted an opportunity to be content in her successful attack, because dread, guilt, and anxiety suddenly flooded her system, her core, her soul, and the notion of being bereft, of being alone, of prompting this painful mishap rendered her nearly motionless.

Sage’s reactions were enough to drive her from the numb sensations, survival brimming in the nymph’s mind, swerving left to avoid the massive impact of hooves against shoulder, and still it was nicked with a shining, blinding pain contorting along her muscle. Dazed, stunned, reeling from no connection to her beloved, she tried to briefly turn her eyes towards the creature lying in the mist, her soft, dulcet connection hazed, distant. Imogen? No response but the merest flicker of life ghosted over their shared devotion, an unconscious trail of conviction humming into assurance. Alive, but not well, not whole, not thriving, and she, once sylph, once divine and virtuous, with her bold endeavors, with her hopes, dreams and loyalties, had caused this. If she were not in battle, she would have stumbled to her knees, begged forgiveness from a creature whose dedication, commitment and love had earned her naught but deadly bombardments.

The Pegasus glided near her now, towards her left, wings like wraiths in the mist, specters in the abyss, and in her senseless state she thought to move, she thought to cling, endure, persevere. She dove towards the right, felt the burning segments of her haunches, muscles simmering, seething from the shift of weight, from their pummeled stature of prior assaults, and still bore the scorching distinction of her hind being struck. The motion sent her off-balance, staggering a few steps to the left, and only the shallow breath of her anguish, of her torment, was released into the air. Suddenly, without further notion, without reeling, without machinations -

She awakened.

Sparked, she burst into flames, provoked, kindled and ignited, incensed and maligned, she became the beast hidden deep in the darkest pulse of her veins, hidden, covert, and clandestine. The shadows fluttered over her heart, anger, wrath, ire and rage washed over her mind, pricked against her sentiments until the art of tenderness, compassion and empathy vanished, flooded, pervaded, consumed by the ferocity of her blistering, searing contempt. It stung, trembled and coated her cranium until there was nothing but the blistering weight of hate resting across her shoulders, her figure, her restless ardor. Loathing for Imogen, who had followed orders, who had done nothing but love her, follow her, abhorrence for the stolen children, absconded and dragged from a world constantly instigated, and finally, for once, committing a selfish pledge for herself, to forever fighting for a herd failing to recognize her aspirations, ignoring her loyalties, her passions for their safety, sanctity and glory.

Nymph lacquered into cretin and infidel, cast one stare devoid of warmth, empty of kindness, amiability, frigid and cold, towards Sage, before conducting and composing a short song, made for her pained soul, for her companion laying on the forest floor, as she forced, swung, her body to comply to her fury.

“Heart in your hand,
You were a savior across the land.
Struck down,
Breathe again.”

The amber glow of her brief sonnet flickered, varnished her muscles, prospered the sanctity of smooth healing, and she felt it trickle, echo, towards Imogen, for without the sun, its powers were feeble, weakened, delicate –

Then unleashed the torrent of her vexation, a storm, a phantom, a predator in the fog, chasing down the bitter trail of her enemy. Charging towards Sage’s right, she raised her sword, brandished the rapier as an incensed militant aiming for the kill, intending to reach out to the floating Pegasus, stab and lacerate the Pegasus’s right side of her barrel, to malign, to assault, to cause unwinding pain. In her unfurled apathy, in her caustic, callous emotions, she wanted her opponent burdened, besieged, hurt, crippled upon the dark floor. Thereafter, she shifted towards the right, pivoted so that her hind hooves could possibly connect to the mare’s side (right haunches, should her movement follow through its usual motions, should she falter from her current height?); invoking the clamorous din of her seething torrent and torment.


[784 words.
3/4 invasion duel system.
1 + 0/1 additional Basin Champ magic used. 1/2 companion used.
Imogen is flung into a tree and rendered unconscious.

Lena attempts to avoid Sage’s kick towards her right shoulder by swerving left, but is still nicked and bruised on the shoulder. Seeing Sage coming towards her left, Lena shifts right, despite the terrible ache in that side, and is nicked once more on the right haunches, staggering a few steps to the left due to the force of the attack.

Fueled by rage, Lena composes a short song to heal herself and Imogen. The healing is minor, but allows her movement to be contrived without blinding pain. She then charges towards Sage’s right, and despite the Pegasus’s hovering, she attempts to puncture the right side of her barrel. Hoping to burden her opponent further, she then twists towards the right, pivoting and kicking out, hoping her hooves will connect to the mare’s right haunches.]