The femme growled, a horrible, hell-bent growl, as her assaulter dug angrily into her flesh. The streams of blood widened, and now little rivers coursed down her paws. The dark red colour mingled with her wine-stained pelt. Still, she held on, terrible knifings of pain ripping through her fores and hinds. This was child's play, compared to torture. I can hold on. And so she did, keeping her creamy wings folded stubbornly to her sides. But then, it appeared that Diable was not going to let her do this. His powerful wings thrusted forcefully, and amazingly, they began to rise. Then came the bite. She felt his teeth go deep into her jaw, leaving puncture wounds, and staying there. With a scream, she let go with her claws. They retracted immediately. She snapped her jaws open. Blood welled over her mouth, stinging her lips with its coppery taste. Instantly she began to drop. For a second, shock overcame her, and she did nothing. But right when she was about to sink into a snowdrift, she banked furiously with her wings, and pushed herself aloft. Then, she landed for a moment, in a shallower patch of snow. She took a large mouthful of the stuff, and spat it out. It shone with red patches. Then she scooped up a bit, packed it tightly, and moulded it to her mouth to soak up the blood and numb the pain. All the while, she watched Diable, wary of the flickering tail-flame that hovered above. But in a second, everything changed. A tiny flicker in her sense of Fronima, a dying, spitting sound from up above, and she had no idea where Diable was. The last light had just gone out. "Vokcing utthole! I'll vokcing kill the bastard. Fronima swallow him!" She spat the curses out with furious hissing breaths. This complication did not make her happy, in any way. The femme instantly took off again, her magically enhanced wings propelling her upwards quickly, 'till she was about ten metres off the ground. Now. Where the vokc is the son of a reskh? She hovered, trying to silence her soft wings. Vaguely she heard the heavy beat of his batlike ones. Thass the advantage of having these, she thought, satisfyed. She scented the air. She thought she smelled the warm, metallic scent of fresh blood. The wingbeats flared again, this time much, much closer. She backed up, and listened furiously. But then... the scent faded, swept away by the wind. There was no sound from the wings. None at all... in fact, the only two things that would cause that were if he'd fallen, or-- "Vokc!!!" And it was then that his body loomed in front of her, a metre away. There was no time to think. She shoved her wings down, and thrust them forward, at the same time propelling herself up and backwards. His raking claws zoomed ever forward, but her wings were fast. Not too fast, though, not fast enought to avoid any contact. His talons stripped the fur from her belly, as well as some skin, in long lines where they trailed. As she went up, he came forward into her, and so his claws gouged deeper on her theighs and legs, where they ended up. She yelped from the sudden pain. His jaws snapped forward, closing in on her leg. She crowed in pain; a gash opened down her lower leg, a gash that grew deeper as he closed in. But she wrenched her leg away from him at the last second, and held it gingerly, favouring it. She pumped her delicate wings up, and up, until she hovered above him. Her body was battered, her stomach stung, her leg dripped blood as it hung limply. Despite this, she seethed and bubbled with anger. "You bastard! You are SO not getting away this time!" And with that, she threw herself blindly downwards, 'till she could hear his large wing pumps. Then, she focused in on the sound, growling deep in her throat. With a few more flaps of her wings, she was on top of him. She landed on the larger 'dragons back, holding on and digging her claws in fiercly. Then, and opened her jaws and closed in on the back of his neck. She sensed it; this was a good move. He couldn't shake her, or reach her from up here. She dug in deeper with her claws, defiantly, as she came in upon his neck...
<font size="1">Rather then a long, mournful wail of agony, Diable began snarling furiously as Ria's teeth embedded themselves into the back of his fleshy, muscular neck. It was a disturbingly ...happy growl, one that was mingled with a certain low-pitched laughter. His face was in a slightly cringed expression, though. He whirled slightly, twisting his neck, ignoring the tearing muscles and forced his shoulder blades up, the part of his wings where they began in them shifted slightly, avoiding Ria's direct weight. Nope. There was no way Diable would be able to slash or bite her like this. Flailing the rugged appendages in a rush, the male gained a lot of altitude, still with Ria's jaws tightly closed on his scruff. He began panting with the extra weight, and not to mention all the flying he'd been doing. His flying slowed to a stop, right beneath a cluster of thick clouds. At this point, Diable didn't care how much pain he was feeling. He fell into a sharp dive and wrapped his wings around Ria, their deadly, hooked claws slashing at her wings, back, head and face. The male kept his concentration on on this, and of course, on not crashing into the ground. He waited for her to get off him...Wind and snow blasting into their faces. Diable couldn't even see the ground. ooC: sorry about the shortness. I'm in a hurry..
The snow drove into the two pendragons. Shiraz snarled angrily as his wings slammed against her burgundy physique; her only response other than that was to dig in harder with her claws. She knew they were zooming at a dangerous angle towards the ground, but could not and did not do anything about it. She wouldn't let loose now, not a chance. This was too good a chance to defeat her enemy. The wind whistled menacingly through every bit of fur, chilling her with a horrible cold. Snow pelted her 'till she thought her eyes were crusted shut with ice, and still she ripped and tore at the dark pelt beneath her. Her creamy wings were held at an angle to slow the two down, but they really didn't do much, as their size wasn't awfully imposing. With a raspy bark of anger and last-ditch determination, she clawed in harder, straining and plunging her talons deep into his flesh. Then, she dove in for his neck. She absolutely knew there was no way he could get away now. Her silver-white fangs met flesh, and she thought she tasted blood, though she couldn't be sure. All she knew is that she wanted his flesh in her teeth. Horrible bastard. So she bit and chewed and ripped like some wild savage thing, all the while scraping his back angrily with sharp claws. By now, they were extraordinarily close to the ground. She sensed this, and wrenched her frozen oculars open, unhooking her claws. Now, she still held on to keep herself from being buffetted away, but at least wouldn't be crushed should Diable fall the wrong way. The driving snow shot into her face, tracing crazy lines of white across her sight. All she could see was the night, and the snow, pale and stark against the darkness... ...And suddenly the inevitable happened. They'd crashed. With a yowl, she let go with her claws, and the impact tore her claws brutally out of his flesh. Still snarling, the spy shot away from him. The downward-forward impact sent her reeling in front of the male, five yards away. Luckily, the snow was soft enough to soften a blow which may have normally severed her spine. Still, the sudden plunge into the freezing snow stopped her breath in her lungs. She lay there, in shock, her eyes still closed shut in anticipation of the pain. With a groan, she inhaled deeply, gulping in the frigid air. The snow stung her wounds and was bitter on the tender stripped flesh of her belly. But still, she rolled up, painfully, to see where Diable was. With a gasp, she walked forward and looked for her assaulter.
<font size="1">Diable pushed his eyelids together tightly in a vain attempt to keep the snowflakes out of his eyes. His agonized yelps of pain were muffled by the powerful wind as his arrow-straight body fell to the ground, being ripped apart at the back. He felt his flesh being decimated to the bone. And there was nothing he could do about it. Then, in one, horrifying, deep wail, the male opened his wings short of a few meters to the ground and crash-landed lightly into the snow, feeling the female get catapulted off his bloody back. He fell chest first, and slid a few feet before coming to a sudden stop in a snow bank. For a few brief moments, he lay there, motionless, wings and legs sprawled to his sides, his face in a bunch of snow. Snow quickly covered his body. With a violent shiver, Diable jumped out of the snow and shook his head briskly. Blood dripped down all his legs, into the snow, and froze in his fur. He felt his body weakening at a steady rate with the exhaustion, cold and blood loss combined. But being the persistant, stupid bastard he was, the first thing that came to mind was to search for the bitch and destroy her. But he stayed there, behind his snow bank, and peeked over it and immediately caught a glimpse of her through the heavy falling snow. With a deep breath, he felt the frigid air course into his lungs. But he stayed where he was, his head peeking over the hill, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The female panted in the dark, breathing in the spiky, frozen air. The intense heat of battle which was so feverishly running through her veins was lost, now, and was replaced by a bone-chewing black cold; she'd have to take three hot showers before it was driven away. Blood coursed down her sides, leaving dark spots in the snow, from where the angry male's wings had torn at her flesh. The cold stung the sensitive, exposed skin of her belly. Her chest moved in and out. Her paws burnt; pure fire and dark ice stabbed her mouth. So much pain, so much... The femme coughed, and spat. Sick, rank blood flew onto the snow. Her stomach heaved and roiled at the rotten copper taste in her mouth. Coughing some more, she took up a mouthful of snow. It felt soothing on the wounds. She spat it out and ate some more. The cool softness quietened the rolling fire in her belly, and she no longer felt sick. She no longer felt bloodlust; rather, a cold, indifferent, robotic desire to kill filled her. It was mindless cold rage, now, and all she wanted was to pay back the pain that had so filled her. She rolled her shoulders, groaning at the pain. She shivered now, but didn't care. "Vokc you." Her voice shook. This was personal. "Vokc you. You are going down, you thessy excuse for a pendragon." She growled then, a dark, horrid rumbling that coursed up from her belly and escaped her jaw with bitter fury. It escalated into a snarl, which shook and reverberated with husky anger. Then, it became a roar, a shaking and pained sound. And then, Shiraz Montai pounced into the darkness. She did not care what she did. Drawing fiercely on Fronima, she became a biped with hardly any effort. Running forward, she hurled herself at a patch of darkenss she thought was Diable. Then, she blindly hacked and slashed with every part of her, and kicked and changed from biped to quadruped and back, over and over again, hitting him with flailing limbs and snapping jaws. She wanted this to be over, she wanted to kill the bastard and get a hot drink. Alcoholic. Very alcoholic. And she wanted it soon.
<font size="1">Diable used up a lot of strength the moment Ria had so suddenly leapt for the snow bank, throwing his wings up, twisting backwards into a jump to save himself from her sudden rageful attack. { Don't kill yourself, bitch. Let me do it for ya... } Once again, he calmly resumed his quiet, soulfully ferocious snarl, and his bloodied form trotted through the snow. As if he had forgotten all the pain he was in, and how much he had exceeded his own expectations in the length of this fight, adrenaline rushed through his veins once again and he pounced, ready to finish her off. Diable knew this may be the end of his somewhat short life, but he knew all he'd experienced was more than many other pendragons would have in lives three times as long as his. He had lived his life to the fullest, survived through so much, reconciliated with his sister a year ago... He told himself such things to give himself extra courage every time he moved in to kill a tough opponent. But he wasn't going to let himself die. He landed upon her back the instand she was in her quadruped form once again, and hoped that all the speed he had gained in his short run toward her was enough to make her collapse under his weight. He felt his entire body tumble over hers in his shaky jump and though he wasn't sure if her legs had given way, he went straight for her throat with his snapping jaws, wrapping his wings tightly around her legs in an attempt to keep her from using them against him.
ooc: I'm assuming the brackets stand for mindspeak... am I right? Tell me if I'm not... Also, We're gonna need to resolve this. I'd say one knocks the other out, or they both knock each other out at the same time... collision or something. Or we do the former, and then one passes out from exhaustion afterwards. Then they wake up and... batter each other around some more and then agree that it's a draw and neither is going to die? Or suttin'? Jus' tell me what you're thinking... One more thing. Forgive me if the post seems a bit over-the-top... but see, Shiraz doesn't know her father and she knows she has some connection to him... as far as she knows he could be dead or alive, but often she thinks that her flying power was endowed on her, by him. This's got something to do with him as well. But tell me if you don't think it's legit. ic: Shiraz's back cracked unhappily as she landed in a twisted sprawl after Diable had avoided her attack. The snow was so soft, so cold, and the night so dark. She just wanted to sink in, and lay here... forever... Stop it! she angrily told her mind. She was running down; a fool could see that. The cold was sinking, sinking to her very bones, stopping even the blood that cascaded freely from her heaving sides and belly. The dark red femme panted and gasped, trying to catch her breath, when the cruel cutting tone of Diable's mindspeak knifed through her conciousness. 'Don't kill yourself, bitch. Let me do it for ya...' The hateful words, simple and angry as they were, sent some strange, fear-wrought semblance of strength through the mind of the female. She knew it wasn't adrenaline; that rush had abandoned her long ago. It wasn't extra energy... but rather, it was the pure, unadulterated urge to tear the filthy black male apart, and let his blood drip through her waiting hands. With slight surprise at this sudden lusty urge, she then shifted to quaddies. The second her four feet touched the ground, the horrid creature was upon her, rending at her with brutal teeth and claws. His whole weight was on her. "I suppose you think I'm going to give!" she screamed. "You are a fool!" And then, though her muscles shouted their silent protests, she rolled out from under him. His snapping jaws missed her neck by a half-centimetre, and she impatiently (and scaredly) wrenched her body from his talons. She felt the flesh tear and peel down, like ribbons, like a corn-husk. Screaming with the pain, she hurled herself away and lay there, firey daggers and red-hot pokers wreaking havoc on her tender skin. The pain was too much, too soon... She rolled over in the snow a few times, feeling the ice sooth and numb the tear-wounds. Then, she stood up and vomited bitterly. These two things made her feel a good deal better, though her knees still shook. She collapsed to the snow, praying with all of her that the black male would not see her and attack just yet. Am I dying? she wondered, as she felt the pain dullen all 'round her. But no... heat and energy and light-- and life -- coursed through her. She had never felt this kind of rush before, not once, not ever. What the--? and as she pondered, she heard a male voice reverberate richly through her mind, in words she did not understand. A magical-- there really was no other way to describe it --tingle passed through her wings. They burnt now, but not with pain, with the fires of victory and purity, with the flames of revenge and taint. The voice felt familiar... And then faded. Shock and suprise and fear radiated from the femme. Something completely... extraordinary... had just occurred. But now, a soft golden glow, which smouldered seductive red when it met her body, surrounded her. She hadn't known herself to be trained in anything else but espionage. But it seemed that some type of elemental or dark sorcery ensconced her body. However, it wasn't against her will entirely. She felt a semblance of control over the aura, and somehow felt in authority. But there was no time to feel anything, she realized. No time. No time... And the fires still pulsed through her veins, reduced to hair-thin lines to fit through the capillaries. But it felt she'd burst, it felt she'd... cease to be... unless she did something with this extraordinary power she felt. So she ran at the patch of darkness she knew was the male, and at the last second, pumped her wings up. Somehow, they seemed more powerful, and she popped upwards a few feet above the male, missing her mark. With a wild curse, she flapped them a few more times, and then clipped them tight. She looked like a griffon of the old Earth tales, then, as she plumetted towards him with her aura of gold. Somehow, she knew she'd hit her mark here, or felt nearly sure. In a second, she hit something. She knew not whether it was the ground or Diable, but she tore at it vengefully with tooth and nail, muscles not usually used bulging with the fury inside. She meant to leave him a skeleton, a frame, with just a few tattered husks hanging off. She meant to kill Diable that very moment. Did she succeed?
