assuredly, we must all hang together
Hello dear boy, have you missed me?
I think you really ought to come home and visit your mother. Perhaps give the Valley another chance? I know you're a bit reluctant so I thought we should have a mother-son discussion…
Let's make it simple, shall we?
If I win, you become a Valley resident for 6 months (2 RL weeks). If you win, I won't bother you again about moving home, although I will continue to silently (and not so silently) judge you for your choice of Chamber over Valley.
Two posts each, one attack in each. Ish. I'm flexible.
And since I am so exceedingly generous, you can go first.
I'll be waiting, Kush.
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Basically, the challenge will start once you post. :-) Since you have a fight with Fennick going, this can wait until you are ready!
**Kushiel was challenged with permission from Kyra/Straia and Anna/Kushiel.**
Kushiel felt like the kid who’s mom put a big heart on his lunch bag. Everyone was going to make fun of him. Except it was even worse than a heart on a lunch bag. His mom was going to beat him up. Kushiel scowled ferociously.
This was incredibly embarrassing.
But still, he had a little bit of pride, buried deep, deep beneath his usual bullshit. He wasn’t about to go crying to Warship and make him fight this battle for him. That would be even worse than receiving a sound ass whooping from his mother. Dragging Warship into this would be shameful. Otherwise, it was just normal, run of the mill mother son interaction. It was incredibly messed up, but at least he was used to it.
So, it was with a sour expression, that he presented himself on the battlefield. He fixed Gallows with what he hoped was a withering expression.
“Fine, Ma. Let’s do this. All it’s going to prove is that your grown son can’t take a punch. That’s really more embarrassing for you than me.” That was not true. It was way more embarrassing for Kushiel. By all accounts, he should have turned out to be a real scrapper. Where that destiny had gone awry was anyone’s guess.
But here he was, totally unprepared for battle. Feeling like an utter fool, Kushiel circled Gallows. He’d seen the warriors do that, and it seemed smart enough. He would try to catch her off guard. Or, failing in that, he thought a moving target would be a little harder to hit than a still one. She wouldn’t be expecting him to jump right into battle. Kushiel wasn’t much of a go getter. So, for the sake of trickery and deceit, that’s what he would do.
Mustering up as much strength as his untrained, flabby body could, Kushiel launched himself at Gallows, perpendicular to her left side. He would try to latch onto her poll, right behind her dastardly little ears. Perhaps, if he got a good enough grip, he could shake some sense into her. He couldn’t help but wincing slightly at the thought.
After all, blood tasted really bad.
Most likely, he would miss. He wasn’t much of a sportsman. But perhaps, if he did miss, he could rip out some of her mane instead. That would ruin her day. She had a nice mane, and it would be even better with a big chunk missing from it.
His attack completed, Kushiel scrambled backwards. He tried to spin to his left, and while he was ungraceful, he was motivated. The only thing he liked less than the taste of blood was the feeling of his own leaking from him. Better to get out of the way. He had no intention of kicking his mother in the face, he wasn’t that mad, but perhaps the threat would slow her down a little.
Maybe if he lost he would get a big scar. Would that impress Straia? Something told him that big scars were less impressive when they came from fighting with your mom.
assuredly, we must all hang together
His embarrassment is vastly amusing, and I grin wickedly. I know most mothers don't publicly humiliate their sons... but who wants to be most mothers? And Kushiel ought to know he isn't most sons. Although that certainly isn't his fault. He just had the rotten luck to draw an unconventional mother in the parenting lottery.
I return his withering look with a scowl of my own. Really! He has no one but himself to blame for this mess. I snort, exasperated, my tone scolding.
“If you get your ass kicked it's no less than you deserve after telling your mother's secrets.”
Granted, it really won't change much. I still want Straia to join in on the fun, but I can't let Kushiel get away with thinking he can go behind his dear mother's back. I also have no intention of making him come home. I grudgingly and privately admit that my unambitious son has done rather well in the Chamber and I won't take that from him. Still, the threat of it ought to be enough to make him think twice about annoying me again.
Or not. He is his mother's son.
His attack is predictable but I don't want to discourage him. Well, not entirely. As he comes charging towards my left side, I rear, dodging his teeth on my neck and taking the graze on my shoulder. The bite hurts much less in a heavily muscled area and I doubt it will even bruise. It wouldn't do for Kushiel to feel like he hasn't a chance.
“Mind reading, dear,” I say mildly, reminding him of his opponent's strengths as he whirls away. Although privately I could see his intentions written all over his concentrated face. The mind reading was simply force of habit.
I smile at him, fondly and then sidle up next to him as if I am going to groom his mane, our sides most likely touching. This was something he loved as a child. I run my muzzle over the base of his mane, hoping to trick him into complacency. After all, maybe he'll think I'm going to forgive and forget. Silly man. I strike. My teeth are aiming for the back of his neck. It's little more than a nip, really, but it should be suitably embarrassing all things considered.
“You might try going for my neck from the front this time, darling.” I say critically as I circle so I am facing him. “And for heaven's sake, Kush, please pick up your hooves when you run. It slows your attack when you drag your feet and gives me more time to react.”
Gods. If he'd spent half as much time listening to me teach fighting tactics as he did flirting with anything that moved he might not be so concerned about the outcome of this tussle.
G A L L O W S
We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
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Kushiel felt like a fool when he missed his mark. Instead of viciously shaking his mother like a rag doll, he banged his forehead against her shoulder blade, clipping just a bit of muscle with his teeth as he did so.
Well that was embarrassing.
He should have been excepting that. She reminded him of her mind reading and rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. So very typical. His dramatic spin away from her seemed a little over the top now that she wasn’t attacking. She approached him casually, along his left side, and he let it happen. Maybe she had thought better of this whole, ridiculous charade.
Kushiel flopped his ears to the side, and turned his face away from her. He wasn’t going to look at her. She could be as nice as she wanted and it wasn’t going to help. Kushiel wanted to make sure she knew that he was angry. He didn’t have a lot of pride, but when it was sore he sulked like a bear.
But still, she knew his weakness, and he felt his resolve weaken. He did like to be groomed there, right along his neck. His mother was the only one who ever dared risk it. Kushiel’s mane was usually on fire, it didn’t exactly invite tender touches. But still, man that felt good. He looked back at her sheepishly and sighed contentedly.
Yeah, right there, a little to the left.
That was when she felt this teeth. Kushiel jumped straight in the air, surprise, more than pain, causing him to wail.
“Damnit, Mom!" He scrambled away from her, scowling furiously and fixing her with his most grievous expression.
If looks could kill he would probably win this battle. Needless to say, her helpful hints were not appreciated.
Still, since she could read his mind anyways, he might as well do as she suggested. Kushiel leapt towards her again, this time coming at her head on. He even tried to pick up his feet a little higher. He probably ended up looking like a flamingo. In what he thought was snake like speed, his teeth gnashed at the right side of her neck, about halfway between her poll and her withers, right in the center of the muscle.
There, take that.
The error, in this ill thought plan, was that he hadn’t taken into account her forelegs, or her teeth. This wasn’t a particularly defensible position, but Kushiel wasn’t one to analyze battle tactics. He’d been on the receiving end of a few good kicks, but he had always deserved those.
This time he had done nothing wrong, and he would go to this grave believing that. He was on the receiving end of totally unwarranted domestic abuse.
assuredly, we must all hang together
I smile sweetly at my son, a wave of affection flooding over me. He really is a charming little bastard, my Kushiel. Even if he can't fight to save his life. I eye him critically. He could be a fighter. I know he has the capacity and certainly the size. But then again, not the ambition. Still, I suppose I'll keep claiming him as mine.
Children. They tend to make you a bit stupid.
"Gods' sake, son. Did you forget how to work your feet?"
I grin, more amused than I probably have a right to be. His attack is swifter this time and not entirely avoidable. I rear as his teeth come towards me, catching the bite a little lower on my neck. His teeth close like a pinch, and I wince, although I have a pleased look on my face. Finally! As he pulls back I fall forward from the rear and launch my knees into shoulder. I put minimal weight behind my attack, intending to cause a smart and not a lasting bruise. Besides, whether I like it or not, he is taller than me and I am not going to be able to brute force push him around. Kushiel can always scramble backwards or rear himself, so our legs clash instead of my legs against his side.
Most likely, he will pout.
"Much better. Perhaps a bit more speed and power behind that attack the next time, dear." He may not want my opinion (I'm not sure which is more clear about this; his thoughts or his body language) but I'm his mother and if he thinks I'm about to stop giving him advice then he has clearly forgotten what having a mother means.
He doesn't say anything, sulking, but I catch his stray thoughts like a breeze. I give him a look. He ought to know it well. It's the same look he caught ten times a week as a child.
"Oh, stop being dramatic, Kushiel." I scold. "I'm not abusing you. I'm teaching you, and if you'd paid a little more attention when I was showing you how to fight, you wouldn't be so grumpy now."
I trot closer, my eyes softening (as they only do for this rascal), and nibble at his mane. "See, you did fine. You can stop acting so aggrieved, silly goose."
G A L L O W S
We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.
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Winner: Gallows
I would just like to say this was amusing and fun to read.
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