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    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


    magnus
    #1
    -Raeg'n-
    It felt like she'd searched high and low, over the whole of Tephra, before she finally found him. Geez, he kept busy. It's like when she checked one place, he snuck in behind her to do whatever the hell it was he was always so busy doing. Checking on people or something. Of course she respected it, but she failed at hiding the flustered tone in her voice when she said: There you are. Finally!

    She knew he wouldn't take offense, though she hadn't meant to say it quite that harshly. He had to know she had the utmost respect for him, and everything he'd done for her so far. Training, sparring, maybe one day some diplomacy instruction; she was a bit too sharp at times. Most importantly, taking in her and her friend Lauchlan. She tried to make up for it by helping patrol the borders for threats, day and night. Any time she had the chance to, really.

    She'd grown close to Magnus, though at the same time they seemed to keep each other at a distance. For whatever their reasons may be. Sometimes she felt like she tip-toed around him, as though some hidden monster lay dormant within and fearful she'd be the one to wake it. It wasn't logical, really, he'd never shown signs of suddenly becoming violent. But she still felt the threat hiding deep within him, somehow.

    Perhaps she imagined it, raising her accomplished mentor on some pedestal. She wasn't sure, but didn't think picking at it was such a great idea.

    You have time today? she asked a little smoother, kinder. She of course wanted to spar again. She probably annoyed him with how often she asked, begged for it. She couldn't get enough. It wasn't entirely by choice, though she hoped to never have to explain that to him. Her grave vulnerability required her to push herself to her limits. To him, she probably looked like some battle-crazed fool who thirsted for blood. Despite that hers never spilled. Well, it did, but the wounds were always instantly healed. She wondered if a darker part of him enjoyed that, a training dummy that would never break. But she'd never ask.

    Ok, so it was a little amusing walking away from a real good fight with him and he was the only one with bruises. She would never tell him that. It was also a little irritating that still after so much training and sparring the passed few weeks a "real good fight" with him meant only minor bruises. The man was a damn war machine. She felt her face heat, though she had no idea why, and asked again.

    So can we?

    Image © Wizards of the Coast LLC


    hoping some magically awesome random time-jumping is cooool <333
    #2


    She was persistent, he would give her that. At first, he had begun easily on her, showing her defense more than anything else—letting her practice attacks and showing her how easily he could slip away from them. It had been more show than anything and although she had managed to get a few hits in, he had never minded (he had never minded the ache of muscle and blood). Their training in the early days had been centered around that dance. She lunged, he side-stepped; she snapped, he reared. It had been instructive and helpful, but he had not touched her, not yet. He had born the brunt of any damage.

    But that couldn’t last forever, he knew that. So, gradually, he began to shift his defense into offense, hitting back when she struck out at him. His teeth found purchase, his hooves making blunt contact. He had held back, but it had been enough, considering the difference in their size and heft. It was then that he had discovered her ability, watching as her body knit itself back together before his very eyes, and his eyes had darkened with understanding as he just nodded and then lunged again. And again. And again.

    She had never complained though, and he hadn’t coddled her. Whatever hunger that lay dormant within him sometimes roared to life during these sessions, and he did not entirely ignore it, but he kept his hand firmly on the collar of whatever beast roared within him. It was not easy, but he maintained control.

    He rolls his eyes dramatically when she comes up his side and sighs with more exasperation than he feels, turning his golden head toward her with a rogue smile. “And I thought I had finally been able to shake you.” As if that was possible. The girl was persistent. He could break her bones and he was convinced that she would give herself a minute to piece them back together and then be back asking for more.

    If he liked the ability to fight without consequence, he never said it.

    “Does it matter to you if I do not?” he said with a chuckle, swinging around to face her. She had always been respectful of his responsibilities but she was young and eager and full of purpose. It was sometimes hard to explain why he couldn’t help her fulfill her angel’s purpose because he had to patrol a border or welcome a newcomer to Tephra. “Regardless, I have time for some sparring. Are you ready?”

    He took a step back from her, opening up the small area between them, free of magma but not without any obstacles. He felt his adrenaline rise in response to the challenge. Magnus knew that he would walk away from this with wounds he could not heal, not without time, but ever since Tobiah had tucked his own immortality within his golden body, he had felt younger, more energetic than he had in years.

    “First attack is yours,” he said, pawing at the ground in anticipation. But then, before three seconds had passed, he was lunging forward, covering the distance quickly, bringing his knees up hard into her chest.

    No one fought fair in the real world. Neither would he.

    out of the blue out into the loneliest place that you'll ever know
    I carried the world just as far as I could but the damage had taken its toll

    [Image: gqYjsHr.png]
    #3
    -Raeg'n-
    "And I thought I had finally been able to shake you."
    She smirked playfully. Fat chance. She would always come back for more. She needed it. But she wouldn't tell him that part.

    He did happen to have time, and squared up to her, making her eyes gleam in eager anticipation. She was going to make this one count, push herself.

    She didn't like hurting Lauchlan. Somehow it was worse sparring with him. With him, she felt guilty for her healing, as it was instantaneous and uncontrolled. She didn't feel so guilty with Magnus. He was her mentor, and knew what he was getting himself into. Knew how to defend better than she'd probably ever learn. Lauchlan was good, but this guy put them both to terrible shame.

    Magnus stepped back, opening up space for them. Yes! Focus. A wicked grin quickly slid to her face, needing this.
    "First attack is yours," he directed. She nodded in acknowledgement, already trying to figure out a way to get the upper hand on him. She needed to learn well, but also make sure he still landed a lot of damage. Challenge her magic, build her stamina. Landing hits had yet to be a problem for him.

    Before she could decide on her approach, he lunged. His knees came up hard, and she dodged to her right not quite quick enough, taking the hit solidly in her left shoulder. Her magic flashed, instantly healing the deep bruise that would have resulted. In the same move, she twisted her head and tried snapping at his neck, aiming for a good hard bite -for once.

    She followed her rightward momentum and danced a few steps, her left hind kicking out low -without much aim- towards his fetlock. A wild grin was plastered to her face, her adrenaline soaring her on a high. This was her addiction. She needed him to sate it. Make her stronger.

    Come on! she taunted. No, begged.
    Image © Wizards of the Coast LLC
    #4


    When they fought, Magnus locked down.

    He did not think about the fact that she was a young girl and that he was a now-immortal stallion, that she had a handful of years of experience and he had decades, centuries. He did not think about the fact that she was still growing and he was at the peak of physical fitness, forever locked there. He did not think about the difference in their size, in their mass. If he had, he would have been a terrible mentor for her.

    Instead, he quietly locked that part of him up and, in return, opened the cage door for something else entirely. Something darker, something that stalked at the edge of his mind, growling beneath its breath. Something that hungered for the snap of bones and thuds of impact, for the soft cries. It made him cold, calculating, vicious; it made him more than just a fighter in these situations. It made him dangerous.

    He did not tell Raeg’n about this beast that snapped its jaws.

    He did not tell Raeg’n about the iron grip he had to keep upon his collar.

    He did not tell Raeg’n how difficult it was to wrestle him back into the cage when they were through.

    No. He just fought. He focused on how much he had missed it, his mind buzzing with electricity as he looked at her. As he lunged, she dove to the side, instinctual, as he would have done, and although the part of him that was still lucid was pleased with her progress, the other part of him growled in frustration. She snapped at his neck but if she made purchase, he did not feel it in the adrenaline and rush of the moment. He supposed that he would feel the pinched skin and sloughed off hair later. Cosmetic damage.

    “Enough of the bullshit, Raeg’n,” he growled, low and deep. “Fight to win.”

    He angled away as she had, taking one great lunge to the left before planting his feet solidly and then slingshotting his back legs outward and upward. Her kick grazed him in the process, but the fetlock was such a small target and he was not standing still. He grit his teeth, showing no outward sign of being hit and instead focused on the attack, his roughshod hooves aiming to make purchase on her side, her belly—all depending on how far away she had moved and her current positioning during the dance.

    Magnus didn’t wait to see.

    As soon as the kick was done, he brought his feet back underneath him and then spun around on his haunches, lunging for her left side again. This time, he used his size to his advantage, coming down upon her with teeth. He aimed for her relatively thin neck and pulled back, hoping to off-set her balance or, if he was lucky, catch her enough off guard that he could pull her to the ground. That’s when the fun began.

    out of the blue out into the loneliest place that you'll ever know
    I carried the world just as far as I could but the damage had taken its toll

    [Image: gqYjsHr.png]
    #5
    -Raeg'n-
    There.

    There it was again. That weird tickle of danger brushing against her mind. Something subtle, almost imagined. Or was it truly in her head? She was fearless, impervious, indestructible. But some part of her wanted to fear him.

    "Enough of the bullshit, Raeg'n. Fight to win."
    Command, threat. Growled out like a beast. Her senses heightened, and her eyes bore into him warily as she danced a few steps away. She wished she could stop, and really see him, but his hind was kicking out at her and she took the hit to her ribs enough to bruise. Flash.

    This wasn't going well. Already, he had the upper hand on her. Of course he naturally did, but she still should have expected this, worked to counter it. They had just begun and she was failing. Her eyes flared and blood rushed through her, warming her muscles into swift action. He spun forward again and rushed her, towering over her and coming from above. She lurched forward, coiling her hind legs in a tight spring then kicking out as hard as she could toward his reaching face or neck.

    She grit her teeth in frustration. She was still playing like prey though, and she hated it.
    If you can't attack right away, stay clear until you can.
    Defense. Offense. Somewhere in between. Whatever she had to do.

    She was smaller, leaner, swift. She would have to use it to her advantage, focus on speed. So she jolted forward with her defensive kick, trying to fend him off. She only leapt far enough to clear him, land her back feet. As soon as she got her weight in her rear, she twisted back around to throw her shoulder into him, putting the whole force of her petite, blue body into it to disrupt his solid foundation. Again, her teeth lashed out for purchase at his neck, trying to finally draw blood on this war machine of a man.

    Come on, I can do this! Healing is not a crutch, it's an advantage.
    Fight like it's not there.
    Fight for your life.

    Wake the beast inside.

    Image © Wizards of the Coast LLC
    #6


    It roared against the back of his mind, the warning, the danger. He could feel it snapping its jaws, the blood in his veins pulsing angrily. His vision almost blurred with it, but the longer they fought, the more difficult it was to remind himself that this was just training—this was faux. He wasn’t in the heat of the battle; he wasn’t trying to really maim her or end the fight with her limp and on the floor.

    His breath came in short bursts, his mind sharp and calculating.

    She lurched forward as he lunged and so he pivoted with it, feet landing and then pushing him forward again. He wasn’t about to sit still and let her take aim at him. He had a feeling that she was going to kick out but he didn’t push to the side; there wasn’t enough time for him to put that much distance between them—not enough to clear the attack at least. Instead, he did the opposite, throwing his weight to his right and into her. It ended up shortchanging the attack so while she hit him on the meaty part of his shoulder, she didn’t have the distance to fully extended and cause full damage. He would think of the ache later.

    His eyes were sharp as they watched her, and he stopped his forward momentum abruptly, bringing his hocks to the ground in a sliding stop. As she swiveled back around, throwing herself in him, he pivoted on his back end, lifting his front legs and followed his shoulder to the left, head lifted high and away from her grasping, blunt teeth. Maybe the move would surprise her. If she threw herself against something that ended up not being fully there, it could have the opposite effect of making her lose her own balance.

    He didn’t think on it too hard, instead relying on instinct, as he always had.

    Once the move was complete, he worked quickly to find his center of balance again. He had never liked to retreat in the heat of battle. He had known other soldiers who preferred to fight from a distance, landing their attack and then falling back, pushing forward to only land another blow. It was exhaustive and long and although he knew there were advantages to it, he could never bring himself to try. He preferred to fight in the thick of it, the dust rising around them, the sting of sweat in his nostrils, the ache.

    He wasn’t a sniper; he was a brawler.

    And so he continued that dance, ignoring the ache in his shoulder, the sting in his neck where she had sloughed off the skin. They were still close enough and he kept that distance, rising up on his back legs and then raining down on her with the cracked, ragged edges of his hooves. He was aiming for her spine, for her withers, her haunches. It didn’t matter, as long as he felt the thrill of the impact.

    out of the blue out into the loneliest place that you'll ever know
    I carried the world just as far as I could but the damage had taken its toll

    [Image: gqYjsHr.png]
    #7
    -Raeg'n-
    Every time she tried to gain distance, he came with her, chased her every move like an eager hound. The light -or perhaps the darkness- in his eyes was growing. That sense of something that put her on edge clawing for purchase to grapple out of him. Her kick behind her only clipped the soft flesh of his shoulder, nothing close to hindering him in anyway. Only an ache or a bruise, but she allowed herself success that she'd at least hit him at all. He was a master at this.

    As she lunged to throw herself against him, he stopped suddenly and rose above her. It was then that she realized her mistake before. Her healing was not a crutch, no. She should not fight like it wasn't there. She should use it to her advantage. It was the tool that made her different, made her capable of impossible attacks. And so he lifted above her, and wicked determination brightened her fire-eyes as instead of trying to stop her motion, she threw herself further into the danger. Her teeth lashed out for his soft belly and she tried to shove him off-balance.

    But she was petite.
    And he was power.

    His hooves crashed down on her spine, pummeling just before the line of her hips, and she gasped at the sudden pressure. She heard a loud crack, but was unaware if bones had broken or if it had only been the brute of his strength against her body. The flash lit immediately through her as she buckled beneath him, already fully healed but shoved down from the force of it. She stumbled enough to the side for him to land, if he did, but she wasted no time in throwing herself into him again with a hunger for the fight. Again, she aimed her shoulder at him in as much force as she could put behind it, targeting his ribs and hips where most of his weight should have been focused.

    Neither of them spoke, charging at each other in a lethal dance. Her sight blurred, then refocused. Blue blood, shades paler than her coat, sat oddly on her spine where wounds should have been, spilled over and traced down the curve of her right hip. Something powerful in its own glittered silent and tempting within the blue. A taste, a craving. A potent addiction for more. She was unaware of that truth, and her ignorance put everyone she sparred with at risk. Especially him, the beast that already craved bloodshed and mayhem.

    Image © Wizards of the Coast LLC
    #8


    Something sickening flashed in him when he heard the crack of the impact, his hooves coming down hard against her spine. She crumpled and something flared in his chest, both fear and a hunger for more, something predatory gleaming in his eyes at the sight of her stumbling to the side. He felt the second that it unlocked in his mind, the second the beast came roaring to life, and he shut down, turning from her for a second, absorbing the impact of her body as she came back for more, greedily wanting more.

    He took a step to the side to stabilize himself, but was able to withstand the brunt of her weight.

    His breathing was choppy, but not from exertion as he wrestled with the demons that clawed at him, that sick desire to attack—to capitalize on weakness and take her past the point of return. Break her down until not even her healing could piece her back together. Silence reigned as he stood there, eyes closed, nostrils flaring to steady himself, to push the dark back until he remembered who he stood across.

    Not the enemy. Just Raeg’n. Just his student.

    Not the enemy.

    When he trusted himself again, he opened his eyes, their depths stormy but steady once more, and turned back to face her. “That’s enough for today,” his voice was low, husky, and his body slick with sweat so that the gold of it darkened. “You fought well, Raeg’n.” Too well, he wanted to add. Well enough that he forgot he was training and not fighting to the death; well enough that he almost lost control.

    He had brought it back to heel though, tightened his grip on the collar and stared at her with a heated gaze, his muscles still tense beneath the dusk of his coat. “You can’t forget your advantages though. You have to stop playing my game.” He tilted his head toward her. “Throwing your body against mine isn’t going to let you win. You’re not a brawler. Not yet.” A faint growl. “Use speed. Use accuracy. Come in quick for a few hits and then dance out. Make me tired. Make me find you. Make me fight for my hits.”

    out of the blue out into the loneliest place that you'll ever know
    I carried the world just as far as I could but the damage had taken its toll

    [Image: gqYjsHr.png]




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