03-18-2018, 10:05 PM
ooc: it is called a A hippalectryon or hippalektryon.
Post:
She sets her jaw, her icy demeanor holds a hint of exhaustion. She is not... used. to this much exertion anymore. She takes off, cantering, because a lady never gallops, to the first obstacle. Her own flame dances burning brighter inside her soul at the sight of a similar element. She spreads out her wings for balance daintily crossing over the stones as deftly as possible. That ones not so bad. The black mare doesn't give it another thought before moving on to the second obstacle. her nose wrinkles in distaste. For the first time since she has received them, she thinks her wings would have come in handy. However she's yet to learn to use them and cannot fly over the bridge. Each step must be balanced swinging her weight with the bridge not fighting against it. When she successfully crosses this she then continues to the lake, here she shakes out her mane and flattens her ears. She hates swimming. her lips thin, why did she sign up for this again? venom colored eyes slit to speculate over other ways to make it across and when she finds none she takes one step, two steps. A third and she is now no longer on solid ground. A growl escapes her maw, its fecking cold. This one takes her a bit longer.
The next comes, its a flashy uncomfortable amount of colors and she has to pause a moment before bracing herself for the jump. She clears most of them the third knocking her hoof as she is going over. She speeds up, <i>almos</i> galloping. Dear god how many more could there be? she'd gotten used to just three over the course of the events. Lathered in sweat she pushes on, her eyes widening until they feel as if they are about to split from the strain. So dark, she looks for a source of light, something, anything to relieve the blackness; finally it comes and she sees the final task before her, she strains her legs, just this last bit and she will be there, she pushes herself beyond her capacity. Picks up a feather and raises her head to look for the goddess.
Post:
She sets her jaw, her icy demeanor holds a hint of exhaustion. She is not... used. to this much exertion anymore. She takes off, cantering, because a lady never gallops, to the first obstacle. Her own flame dances burning brighter inside her soul at the sight of a similar element. She spreads out her wings for balance daintily crossing over the stones as deftly as possible. That ones not so bad. The black mare doesn't give it another thought before moving on to the second obstacle. her nose wrinkles in distaste. For the first time since she has received them, she thinks her wings would have come in handy. However she's yet to learn to use them and cannot fly over the bridge. Each step must be balanced swinging her weight with the bridge not fighting against it. When she successfully crosses this she then continues to the lake, here she shakes out her mane and flattens her ears. She hates swimming. her lips thin, why did she sign up for this again? venom colored eyes slit to speculate over other ways to make it across and when she finds none she takes one step, two steps. A third and she is now no longer on solid ground. A growl escapes her maw, its fecking cold. This one takes her a bit longer.
The next comes, its a flashy uncomfortable amount of colors and she has to pause a moment before bracing herself for the jump. She clears most of them the third knocking her hoof as she is going over. She speeds up, <i>almos</i> galloping. Dear god how many more could there be? she'd gotten used to just three over the course of the events. Lathered in sweat she pushes on, her eyes widening until they feel as if they are about to split from the strain. So dark, she looks for a source of light, something, anything to relieve the blackness; finally it comes and she sees the final task before her, she strains her legs, just this last bit and she will be there, she pushes herself beyond her capacity. Picks up a feather and raises her head to look for the goddess.