The weather loomed over head with an ominous weight. Clouds rolling in, dense and dark in their smokey gray tones. She rolled her eyes and snorted at them, almost scowling. It was bad enough that it was going to be late at night that the battle even got underway, but to have a storm roll in to obscure things further? Things were going to be unpleasant for a good while. She sighed, stretching her body out in an extended canter and shook her mane. It was inevitable, of course, and any fool who thought it was any sort of omen or sign was a superstitious idiot that needed their head caved in. The only 'sign' about this entire ordeal was that she was starting to intimidate Romeo, or at least unnerve him. That he'd taken notice of her small kingdom and picked at it had her lips curled in a smile somewhere between a sneer and a smirk.
She wasn't quite dissatisfied with him targeting her, at least it was a change from the Underworld being dissatisfied with her. As if it were some silly law that you had to pledge yourself and your loyalty and obedience to Hell if you were of the Dark Alliance. She laughed into the air as the rain began to wall with a lazy drizzle, misting everything and smoking off the hot sands, even at this time of year, to produce a low hanging fog that swirled around her legs. She moved, her body rippling with the muscle under her pelt, with ease and content, pleased that she had been keeping herself in shape if this was the outcome of her personal games. She'd have to make sure Romeo knew who and what she was. She wasn't just your typical thorn-in-the-side and if he thought so... well she likely couldn't change his opinion of her. It was pitifully rare to find a Dark who was willing to permit their opinions and ideas be challenged or changed or in any way compromised. A more pompous and over-seated bunch she had not met in all her life!
She slowed as she approached the battlefield, her body warmed and stretched from the rolling lope she'd sustained this far. The fading light of day and the dimming of the moon behind thick clouds left the world in a dreary subdued light. Shades of gray, blue, black and something she wasn't sure was a color at all tinted everything in a murky blend. The haze of the rain as the drops began to pick up speed. She stood just beyond the edge of the battlefield, bringing her breathing back under control and watching the dark horizon for a moment. The minute she stepped onto those lands things would be sliding out of hand and she'd be in combat, yet again, with a stallion well above her in height, possibly experience and training.... the chances of walking away with only scars every time she stepped foot here grew slimmer.
It was not that she feared, or detested scars, or wounds. She didn't, but she didn't embrace them either. Only the sick, depraved or twisted would embrace something like that. She could accept the beautiful of survival, the impression a collection of scars could give, but she was also aware of the nerve damage tissue-build up could cause, the constant abuse on ones body and what tolls that would take. It almost,
almost seemed like the world wanted to speed up her arrival at deaths doorstep. Well, if the world wanted to push her to the stoop of Death then she'd just fight the world, too. Snorting hard she steeled herself against the coming battle and stepped across the border of the land, her flesh shivering at an unseen, unfelt force that was, entirely, within her mind. She was here, and she was going to fight. If it meant dragging things out against Rigor Mortis to prove to him that he needed to back off
and leave her shit alone then so be it.
She bared her teeth in a huff of steamed breath, arching her neck and tucking her hindquarters beneath her as she marched towards him. Smelling him on the breeze that whipped wildly about her, casting her mane in a haphazard wave of drenched hair and slicing to her dampened flesh where it chilled her to the bones, she narrowed her dark and light blue eyes. So he'd arrived first? Fine. That was just peachy. She almost couldn't wait to find out just how long she had kept the brute waiting, but she really didn't give a damn. She did feel sorry for keeping Israfiel waiting, even though she knew her beta only by name, still, and could not point him out by sight to anyone. She sighed. She really needed to get cracking on the in-herd meet and greets, gathering her members, figuring out if she could even trust her ranked followers. Did she really trust any of her recruits? She hesitated a moment at this thought, just as Rigor Mortis came looming into sight as a dark shadow that cut the distinct horizon line. A flash of lightning seared through the sky, temporarily illuminating everything with harsh outlines before darkness rushed back in to invade the senses. This would be an interesting and difficult battle. Interesting because of who she was fighting and difficult because of how she was going to fight them.
A storm, at night, did more than damage ones sense of sight in combat. It left one wound tighter than a crossbow, ready to knock the bolt loose and send flying the deadly arrow. It left one deafened, as well. Unable to see or hear reliably, tense and relying on instincts, muscle memory and reflex. It would be interesting to see just how well trained Rigor Mortis really was. She had the advantage of youth on him, for now, and her mixed heritage to give her stability and balance, the ability to use muscle and joint wrenching spins and turns without risking harm to herself as heavily as others. Fleet footed, nimble.... but he had those extra years to learn. To fight. To see combat,
true combat. Taint had never seen true war until he brought it to Lachlan Breck. She had only seen skirmishes and minor fights, she'd only been a part of fraction-sized combat. How would a battle-tested warrior and a warrior at heart play out against each other? All these thoughts rolled through her mind in that hesitation and the seconds following as she drew up to the stallion, distant enough to move if he engaged the combat first, but close enough that she was clearly not avoiding him-
yet.
She raised her head, lifting her chin from her neck and stared into the darkness at his shadowed shape. He had the advantage, here, that he could see her better. She was, after all, nearly completely white. He melted into the shadows for her, even when no lightning interrupted her vision and left her momentarily blinded. Thunder rolled lazily in the sky, as though it were a great effort to simply sound in the distance. A deep, rumbling growl that sounded more like a half-hearted threat than a promise of chaos. She whipped her soaked tail back and forth for a moment, rolling the thoughts in her head back and forth. Should she even bother speaking with him? It seemed no one cared about exchanging words when they came here, even if it was for simple things as a greeting and acknowledgement that the combat was to begin. She understood not wanting to waist time on petty insults. Except for those with notoriously short tempers and enormous egos, the tactic did little in the way of giving you an advantage and simply waisted time and
air.
She took a deep breath, sighed it out and let her body sink into a momentarily relaxed state as her mind slipped from every-day-troubles to combat mode.
"Well, Rigor Mortis. I am here, so let us begin. Three strikes, two dodges. Sound fair enough?" if the choice of combat definition said anything about how much she didn't want to waist time or how little she really cared for permanent, life-threatening injuries then so be it. She had only just begun to clean up what she couldn't clean up as Queen and she wasn't about to lose it all in a fight with Rigor Mortis over a Beta Stallion. Not so soon after
starting. She sat back on her hindquarters, watching his shadowy shape for any indication that it was time to move, to react, to stop thinking and simply act. It would be the first time she had entered a battler without first mapping out a strategy. It seemed that dear little Tainted Love was not that great of a strategist and she was giving up, at least for this fight, such heavy thinking to see what exactly would happen. If it meant she'd have to challenge again, at a later time, to bring Israfiel home then so be it. That is... if he wanted to come home. Hopefully any loss she suffered here would not be seen as a sign that she could
not defend her herd and members.
Name- Tainted Love
Breed- Arabian x American Paint Horse
Age- 7 years
Gender- mare
Height- 15 hh
Alliance- Dark
Health- 100%
3 hits
2 dodges
4 days to reply
winner gets to take home/keep
Israfiel ( Taint's beta of Desolate Ruins )
AND SUDDENLY YOU'RE ALL I NEED : THE REASON WHY I SMILE
Tagged ( person ) with ( character )
Total words ( 1577 )
Post Status ( complete )
Playlist( Pandora - SimplePlan )
Notes ( are those battle-rules/sets fine? // also I apologize for the delay; a lot went on the last few days @_@ )
