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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    LUPEI.
    #1
    let's have some old fashion fun, eh?

    kimber
    female
    hispano - arabe
    black to blue ombre
    blue jay wings
    immortality

    two posts each
    one attack per post
    counter attacks count
    lupei goes first!

    Let's just have fun and touch up, i'm rusty too Smile
    traits are ok if you so choose!
    #2
    Lupei
    male
    Anglo-Arabian hybrid
    15'3"
    Maneless/Tailless mint green and aqua oddity
    Wolf shifting
    White Fire Manipulation

    Get ready for a good laugh Tongue
    Let's use traits! (it's more fun that way anyways)

    lupei

    What the truth is, I can't say anymore

    Oh, he’s not really sure why his sister doesn’t like the fading blue mare. Kimber was rather right up Lupei’s alley. That infernal tongue of hers (not to mention the rapier wit) and her insistence on climbing the ranks was almost admirable. Almost. Then again, she was a mare. The fairer sex had never been considered much more than a raging good time to the two-toned beast. But hey, if it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight she’d get. Lupei doesn’t waste time with formalities, meeting his colonel already in wolf form. The black brute shakes out his fur, hunches low into the earth to feel the dirt between his paws, winks cheekily for effect, and with a wicked snarl bounds forward in a seemingly frontal attack.

    They’re facing each other, his characteristic blue eyes honed in on those majestic new wings of hers. He wonders if she’s had time to practice with them. For her sake, he hopes she has. He’s quick, closing the distance between them until there’s perhaps a quarter of a furlong to separate them and then he bunches his hind to leap upon her, visceral and animalistic. The ground beneath his paws bursts into white-hot flame, the intensity of the action coupled with the force he’s exerting of his gift giving him a pyrokinetic push that catapults him into a high, arcing attack.

    Instead of landing his blow upon her chest or directly to her front, exposing him to possible damage from her dangerous hooves or equally square teeth, he’s hoping that this higher leap will land him squarely on her back, where he can scramble for a good hold. It had worked with Lyris, no doubt it could work with this winged wonder. If she chooses to rear, then he may land on her head. Forwards or backwards will land him perhaps either on her neck, or further down upon her rump. The black wolf descends, wide jaw splitting open so that he can expose his predator teeth. “Come to papa.” He thinks, ready for the collision.





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