09-23-2018, 10:07 PM
They collide the first time in a flurry of adrenaline and bodies, and she feels a dark satisfaction in being successful, drawing blood with her teeth and feathers from Nalia’s wings. When she was little, she had trouble reconciling the idea of violence with the person her father was encouraging her to be, but she had slowly come to realize that it wasn’t causing her opponent pain that gave her satisfaction, but simply the thrill of being a good fighter. It allowed her to sleep at night, after long sessions of training with her sire – her sire, whom she could never hope to match, but she could hope she at least learned something.
<p>She’s expecting a counter attack before she can become airborne but it doesn’t come, throwing the bay off-kilter, and she rushes her usual graceful take-off to get into the air and turned around to see what’s going on. As she focuses on getting turned, Nalia is gaining height; her silhouette makes her easy to pinpoint against the bright sky but hides any body language that would give Bristol warnings about the other girl’s intentions. She can see the uneven beat of the grulla’s wings but not much else. Bristol begins to climb in the sky as well, warily, but the sun bright in her eyes means she misses the fact that her opponent’s altitude is quickly changing until it’s too late to dodge entirely.
<p>Thankfully, Bristol wasn’t directly underneath Nalia to begin with – that would be foolish. That, combined with her turning as quickly as she can when she realizes what is happening, mean than when Nalia kicks out, her hooves find a glancing blow against the broadest part of Bristol’s unprotected haunches. It’s sure to bruise, but for now the adrenaline masks all but the brief first instant of pain. The bay mare lets the blow push her haunches down and away and flaps her own leathery wings to rise alongside the girl who is presumably still recovering from her downdraft and attack. In a split-second she considers biting at the girl’s side but chooses instead to reach forward and try to close strong jaws on the long, very important flight feathers of the girl’s outstretched and already injured right wing. When her jaws snap shut, hopefully with some feathers inside, Bristol takes a page out of Nalia’s book and folds her wings, dropping like a stone.
<p>The mare is hoping that she’ll helpfully remove a few of those flight feathers, further impeding Nalia’s maneuverability. If she can slow her down, make her clumsy, even ground her, Bristol will have the upper hand. If she doesn’t succeed, she’ll at least have put some space between them. Her wings open with a snap, encompassing air, saving her from smashing into the ground and taking her shooting forward a few horseheights above the ground. It’s a painful, jarring sensation that Bristol wouldn’t want to repeat too many times, but useful. Between one heartbeat and the next she’s changed the shape of her wings, giving herself wings the shape and proportion of a peregrine falcon’s, the world’s fastest flier.
<p>Then she shoots upwards and back towards where Nalia had been, though she’s sure to have moved. She lines herself up as best as she can with the other mare’s uninjured side, her left, and continues to barrel forward as fast as her body can manage, ears pinned and eyes narrowed against the wind. Bristol doesn’t slow her speed, instead aiming for just above the other girl and carrying through with a full body-slam, unless the grulla has totally dodged her. She folds the wing closest to Nalia’s face, not intending to let the other mare impart the same injury she had caused. It means they’re probably going to go spiraling down and out of control, but she is willing to play chicken until the last minute, when she intends to pull up and away.
@[Nalia]
<p>She’s expecting a counter attack before she can become airborne but it doesn’t come, throwing the bay off-kilter, and she rushes her usual graceful take-off to get into the air and turned around to see what’s going on. As she focuses on getting turned, Nalia is gaining height; her silhouette makes her easy to pinpoint against the bright sky but hides any body language that would give Bristol warnings about the other girl’s intentions. She can see the uneven beat of the grulla’s wings but not much else. Bristol begins to climb in the sky as well, warily, but the sun bright in her eyes means she misses the fact that her opponent’s altitude is quickly changing until it’s too late to dodge entirely.
<p>Thankfully, Bristol wasn’t directly underneath Nalia to begin with – that would be foolish. That, combined with her turning as quickly as she can when she realizes what is happening, mean than when Nalia kicks out, her hooves find a glancing blow against the broadest part of Bristol’s unprotected haunches. It’s sure to bruise, but for now the adrenaline masks all but the brief first instant of pain. The bay mare lets the blow push her haunches down and away and flaps her own leathery wings to rise alongside the girl who is presumably still recovering from her downdraft and attack. In a split-second she considers biting at the girl’s side but chooses instead to reach forward and try to close strong jaws on the long, very important flight feathers of the girl’s outstretched and already injured right wing. When her jaws snap shut, hopefully with some feathers inside, Bristol takes a page out of Nalia’s book and folds her wings, dropping like a stone.
<p>The mare is hoping that she’ll helpfully remove a few of those flight feathers, further impeding Nalia’s maneuverability. If she can slow her down, make her clumsy, even ground her, Bristol will have the upper hand. If she doesn’t succeed, she’ll at least have put some space between them. Her wings open with a snap, encompassing air, saving her from smashing into the ground and taking her shooting forward a few horseheights above the ground. It’s a painful, jarring sensation that Bristol wouldn’t want to repeat too many times, but useful. Between one heartbeat and the next she’s changed the shape of her wings, giving herself wings the shape and proportion of a peregrine falcon’s, the world’s fastest flier.
<p>Then she shoots upwards and back towards where Nalia had been, though she’s sure to have moved. She lines herself up as best as she can with the other mare’s uninjured side, her left, and continues to barrel forward as fast as her body can manage, ears pinned and eyes narrowed against the wind. Bristol doesn’t slow her speed, instead aiming for just above the other girl and carrying through with a full body-slam, unless the grulla has totally dodged her. She folds the wing closest to Nalia’s face, not intending to let the other mare impart the same injury she had caused. It means they’re probably going to go spiraling down and out of control, but she is willing to play chicken until the last minute, when she intends to pull up and away.
@[Nalia]