The world fell away

Their blood was still running hot from the last fight.

As they leaned on the balcony, they sucked heavy air in and out of their lungs. Their ribs protested, sore from taking a few hits, but not enough to step down for the night.

Not this night, atleast.

Their gaze trailed upward to the open ceiling of the diamond.

Hanging over them was a tapestry of inky tree branches, like reaching hands. A smattering of stars winked between the leaves. The trees were only partially bare yet, and the taste of leaf-dust was a heavy component in the air this time of year. There was a breeze, and the branches swayed quietly.

The night was quiet, but the diamond never was. Even when a fight wasn’t going on, there was always some kind of buzz.

Creatures betting on who would win the next fight, complaining about their long day at work, barking at a server to get them this or that, someone skittering off to the restroom, the crunch of salty junk food being shoved in a hungry maw, the sweep of brooms and the slosh of water after cleaning up from the last fight. There was any and all hosts of noises to be had.

Amek was somewhat sheltered from all the ruckus though.

They were in a secluded balcony, one of four that was reserved for active fighters. Normally, it was open to any of the fighters, but Amek had long claimed the balcony as their own.

(They always got a kick out of it when, occasionally, they heard the door creak open, and maybe even saw a peek of an eye, before it shut right again, and was followed by a hurried pattering of feet.)

The wood of the railing was supple and warm on their hands, it was carved into floral designs. The floor was dark tile trimmed in gold, which glimmered in the starlight, and caught the honeyed light of the lantern hanging to Amek’s left.

They liked this balcony because it was a good vantage point. The silvery soils of the arena and the diamond-shaped lights bordering its walls were clearly visible, on the rare occasions he decided to observe a fight. This balcony was also facing the stands, with the segregated stands of common-creatures and royals both easy to see. Common creatures were more fun to watch, but sometimes it was within Amek’s best interest to see how the royals were reacting.

Under their balcony was an additional area of sitting for common creatures. Not any stands, just a few tables to rest or munch on food, if desired.

 It was chatter from these tables that soon filtered up into Amek’s ears.  

Feeling nosy, they focused on it, and traced patterns on the railing as they tried to isolate the words as best they could amidst the rest of the noise.

“– think that Kir Amek is gonna be able to beat Kir Brutus after his last fight?” a reedy voice said.

“He didn’t get that busted up,” a deeper one replied. “And he’s got to. Kir Brutus won last time, didn’t she?”

With their cheek rested in their hand, they chuckled. Brutus would win, that’s what they’d decided this time. If Brutus won one, and then them, and then Brutus again, and they continued that without alteration, well… it didn’t seem very real, did it?

“Yeah, I guess so. Really, I don’t know how Brutus won against him. Not even once, but like. What? Five-seven times atleast? So you know it’s not just luck.”

“She’s insane.”

A bark of laughter escaped them. That was true, she was insane.

“Mmm-hmm. You really gotta be an god-class magician to go toe to toe with a storm spirit, hokking hells.”

Now, that made Amek’s smile twist. It was the way that creature had said storm spirit. As if it were something they had found squashed on the bottom of their boot. It was a gut-response that had Amek stitting up a bit straighter, as if preparing for a blow.

And the blow did come.

“Honestly,” The deeper voiced creature drawled, “they shouldn’t even let him fight in the diamond. Or should give him some kinda handicap. His magic is literally. It’s different¹ from ours – it even sounds different.”

Quickly, they tuned out of the conversation before the other could reply.

A wash of noise, what they had been ignoring to focus on the conversation, rolled back over their senses now. It was all encompassing, like a blanket over their head.

They picked at the skin near their nails.

They had heard worse. Certainly, they had heard worse before. Much worse.

(Still, their insides felt itchy.)

(Itchy and hot, like there was something festering just under their skin. And they wanted to dig it out but knew they couldn’t.)

(That festering thing. It had long made its home in their core.)

It wasn’t about giving them a handicap. That had happened before, and usually they were…. Reasonable. Just not allowing them to fly or something. Genuinely, storm spirits were stronger than other creature subspecies, both physically and magically. More inclined to violent impulses, they knew that². But they weren’t a night yip or some other beast, they had thoughts. They had control.

His magic is literally different from ours.

From ours

OURS

Nails bit into their skin.

The pinch was enough to make them glance down. A distant, almost uncaring surprise met them as they saw small crescent indents pricking with crimson.

 They pushed all their curdling, ugly emotions into a box in the back of their mind. They couldn’t deal with those now, they had a fight soon after all.

A fight against Brutus. Which was good, Brutus was always a delight to fight.

It was true few creatures could go toe to toe with them. And even though they both agreed who would win the fights beforehand, that by no means meant either of them went down easy.

Because where was the fun in that.

No, Brutus didn’t make anything easy, Amek thought with a grin. That was what they liked about her.

What was less easy was waiting. There was an hour or so until their fight with Brutus.

In that time, Amek got a few snacks, perused a book of poetry they had brought with them, and watched as the sparser crowds filled out.

In the stands, it was customary that creatures be in their fragile forms, both because it made spacing easier (fragile forms varied less in size and shape than primal), and because creatures in the stands got a bit rowdy as they cheered on their favorites. Being in fragile form (generally) lessoned injuries.

They looked up from their book to see the stands were packed. They always were for a Kirjnhas fight, especially two Kirs against eachother.

Well, looked like it was about time for them to head down.

Amek shifted to primal form with a burst of golden keyaa particles, and started to make their way to their side of the stage.

The hallway they went down had thin pane-less windows, decorated with perfumey coilgrass and flowers. As their claws clacked against the tiles, they saw bright flashes of the crowd and the arena through the openings.

At the end of the hallway, there was a small room that opened to the arena, which Amek now waited in. There was a single crystal attached to a twine necklace set aside for him. As they clasped it around their neck, relief fell through them. It was good they had both agreed only to pop one crystal this fight.

Until the fight started, they were hidden by a curtain. It was a rich black, the borders embroidered with golden blossoms and silver branches.

Careful of their talons, Amek pulled it aside just enough to peek outside.

In the dark, the crowd was an amorphous shadow of chatter.

The air was thick with anticipation. It was almost a kind of humidity, the stench of that many bodies packed together in an area. All yearning for blood to be spilt on the soil.

Amek felt a different kind of anticipation swirling in their chest, waiting for Brutus. Despite that oppressive humidity, it was a light feeling, and they cradled it in their core.

Although…

Brutus really was taking hir sweet time, wasn’t xe.

Xe always waited until the last moment to show up to a fight. It was amusing as it was frustrating. Most creatures thought it was to be dramatic, and part of it was, Brutus liked to act that xe didn’t like the show of it all, but they knew xe did. The real reason for hir on-the-dot entrances? Xe really just hated the crowds.

Speaking of, for something to do while they were waiting for Brutus to grace them with hir presence, they tried to pick out individuals from the crowd.

This was difficult. The only real light, dim as it was, was from a series of shroomlights placed atop metal pikes in the stands. Those closest to the shroomlights, they could see facial features, differentiate whether someone was a keyhorn or not, identify hair color, but too far away, the rest were mere silhouettes. Before their eyes, they all congealed into a black-brown mass.

(It was easier to think of them as a singular mass than hundreds of creatures, Amek thought.

Simply put, there was Amek and there was them.

Them, being: The mass and, additionally, Amek’s opponent.

Brutus was not part of them.)

By contrast, the arena was a halo of light. It was shaped like a diamond and slightly sunken into the ground, around half an average creature’s height in fragile form. The walls were imbedded with bright, oily lights, also diamond-shaped. Those lights stained the silver soil yellow, and they could see clusters of flitting insects battering against them, hungry for the light.

Reflected light rippled in the shallow mote that bordered the arena.

For a moment, they were entranced by the calm movement. It seemed out of place. Too quiet for this place. Too gentle.

A sudden hush fell over the crowd.

Amek perked up. Was Brutus here?

They were answered by the overhead lights snapping on. The multicolored spotlights swam on the sands with a feverish excitement that matched the crowd. Even when they blinked, the colors bled through their eyelids.

(At once, as if activated by the familiar sight, something in Amek shifted.)

(Not as hard as a shift if they had been against someone who wasn’t Brutus, but a shift nonetheless.)

The announcer’s voice rang through the diamond. “Welcome, all of Valencia!” The crowd roared in answer. “And all others who may be joining us.”

(Amek felt one part of them begin to huddle away and another starting to burn hotter and hotter. Until it would soon burst out of them and into the arena.)

“I would say I’m surprised to see you all tonight, and boy there is a lot of you.”

(They were not Ameokk, August’s brother.)

“But, as I’m sure you’re well aware, we’ve got quite an exciting showdown tonight!”

(Not Amek, September’s son, September’s Kesska.)

“First, as always, let’s lay down the rules, the expectations, of this fine fight on this fine evening.”

(Not Amek, princet of Valencia.)

“We’ve got two Kirjnhas! You all know what that means, yes?”

(Not even truly, Amek, Kirjnhas.)

“That’s right, only one rule. No death!”

(They were what the diamond had dubbed them.)

“And who are those two Kirjnhas, you may be wondering? The first, our own Kir. The one who makes the skies their own, whose voice can sing and mimic any others, whose claws are just as graceful as they are deadly, the one and only, LORD. OF. THE. DROWNED!”

(They were Lord of the Drowned.)

The curtain rose, and Amek squinted against the light.

(And, Lord of the Drowned, they were a performer.)

Before their eyesight had even adjusted, they leapt into arena, going straight from a quadrupedal form, to their two-armed, serpent-like flight form.

The crowd’s cheers hammered into their ears as they grinned and waved, the spotlights following the little twirls they did in the air.

(You had to be. A performer, that is. There was no other way to think about the diamond fights. The fights were all performance, all acting, all putting on a show to tantalize and impress and show the prowess of your clan.)

They greeted the crowd, “Hello, Hello! My, you all are looking wonderful tonight.” and blew a kiss to a cluster of jumping creatures in the common-stands, smirking as one of them flushed beet red.

Then, for some added flair, Amek decided to add some markings to their form. The crowd always loved it when they shifted form in front of them.

They had entered the arena an unmarked off-white, that of sea-foam on an overcast day. Now, as they continued to flit about the arena, nonsense greetings and compliments leaving their mouth, they let a smattering of blue markings bloom down their back, on their shoulders, on the tips of their ears and hands.

 It was an exotic blue, one creatures of Daharus rarely sported themselves, like Amek had captured shards of the sky and laid them upon their pelt.

All crowds loved the exotic, and Amek was exactly that.

As the crowd shrieked in delight, the announcer continued. “Ever the charmer, Lord of the Drowned is. But we must introduce our other contender!”

(See, the fights were a performance even when they weren’t. Especially when they weren’t.)

“From Pyridekk, we have the silent and brutal Kirjnhas. The one who waits and watches for the perfect moment to strike. The one whose vines entrance just as much as they entangle. GIVE IT UP FOR THE. LIGHT. EATER!”

The curtain at the opposite end of the arena rose to reveal one Light Eater. Xe was partially shadowed by the stone archway above hir. Hir antlers looked like spider’s legs in the dark.

Ever unhurried, xe stepped into the light.

The spotlights shifted their attention and swam after hir, bringing out the iridescent greens and blues of hir plant armour. Hir wings rose, the black vine ‘fingers’ of them spreading to brandish the minty ironlace-moss ‘webbing’

As their eyes met Brutus’s characteristic viridian mask, the part of them that had huddled away came back, just enough.

(Hir presence reminded them, tonight, it was a performance.)

Xe walked forward, one sure hoof in front of the other, until they were nearly midway in the arena.

The crowd was loud, but not the same as when Amek entered. It was an anticipatory chatter, at attention to see whether Brutus would do anything different, let something slip, or if xe would refuse to acknowledge the crowd as xe always did.

 Amek lowered themself in the air to meet her. Not too close though. They were opponents after all.

They spoke so their voice carried. “Your wool is looking particularly fluffy today Kir Brutus. Have you done something new with it?”

Brutus’s vine tail flicked as some in the crowd laughed.

The hoofdrake’s mouth, the only part of hir face visible under the mask, didn’t even twitch. However, they saw their ears fold back, just slightly. Possibly exasperation, possibly weariness. Most likely, a bit of both.

Amek had fully expected hir to say nothing, but then.

“Thank you.” Brutus said, flat. But still Amek’s eyes widened. The crowd too, hushed. “It will look even better, I think, with your blood on it.”

Amek’s head reared back with a laugh. The crowd howled alongside them, but Amek didn’t care about that at all. Brutus rarely, rarely, bantered back with them. Xe must be in a good mood.

With the crowd still reeling from Brutus’s response, They shot back, grinning, “Will it now?”

Rising into the air, they angled their lengthy neck like a predator preparing to strike. The spotlights danced over them, no doubt accentuating their artfully placed markings. “We’ll have to see about that won’t we. After all, you’ll need to make me bleed first.”

“Alright alright,” The announcer interrupted, amused, “Let’s count you both down before you go at it now.”

They both got into position on their ends of the arena. The green, diamond shaped mosaic tiles they both stood on were cold against their pawpads.

“On three, the bell will ring.”

In their chest, they began to feel that tell-tale crackle. Their core, its humming intensifying as it readied to perform magic. And not just any magic, the full force of what Amek was capable of.

When they fought her, they could go all out, and she the same.

The crowd counted with the announcer, and hundreds of voices folded ontop of eachother into a singular drum of noise. “….ONE….”

And there was a thrill in that, a freedom. Magic was truly an intoxicating thing, the way it rushed through you after spellwork tickled your tongue.

It was electric, heady and thrumming. A wild, alive thing that demanded your attention, lest it crash and break before you like ocean waves, which could be as calming as they could cruel. Magic was no different.

“….TWO…”

With Brutus, Ameokk didn’t have to worry about all the things they did normally. About properly winning a fight, about only overwhelming their opponent enough to give a good show, about not sustaining too many injuries.

About whether their opponent saw them as another creature, same as them.

Or as a mere beast.

“….THREE…”

With the bang of the bell, they rushed at eachother.

Ameokk went straight for Brutus’s plant-wings, they worked as hir shields, so they had to be dealt with first and foremost.

Soil kicked up, sparkling in the spotlights, as Ameokk whipped by hir and called the wind to boost their speed, “Kem akerka yervav”.

And that extra speed was needed. They were quick enough to lock their jaws around the weak base of the plant limb and rip it off with a gush of sticky liquid. Brutus snarled, a delayed response, as xe realized.

Yet, Ameokk still wasn’t fast enough to avoid the thorns of Brutus’s tail, which raked across their flank as they flew away.

They hissed, their trophy held in their jaws a safe distance away as they observed the damage.

Four jagged red lines greeted them. They flung Brutus’s disembodied wing outside of the arena bounds (some in the crowd squealing excitedly as they caught it).

Blood trickled warmly down their sides.

With any other, Ameokk would be furious they had bled so early into the fight. As it was, their core only thrummed harder, igniting at the challenge.

“Aww, looking a bit lopsided now aren’t you, Brubus.” Their smile was biting.

Brutus’s remaining wing flared open.

“I’ll have to fix that, wo-“

“Brejada, kerokha ejr dasaerk. Su yeada.”

Wuh-woh.

Just before Brutus finished, they blurted, “Em-sejm hkak!”

Thorns launched from Brutus’s vines, whistling as they zipped through the air, only to bounce off the air shield Amek had put up with a satisfying series of thumps.

Except for two, which imbedded themselves into Ameokk’s arm. They winced, more from disappointment than pain. Hokk, they hadn’t made the shield wide enough.

Alright, they growled, time to get serious.

Even if they were losing tonight, they had to get some hits in on Brutus.

With one wing held outward and tail stiff, Brutus circled Ameokk slowly.

Xe was a predator, claws already wicked with blood and thirsty for more. That thirst, they could taste it in the way xe walked, hir muscles taught and attention tunnel-focused on none other than them.

A normal creature would perhaps cower away. At the least, be intimidated.

Ameokk was far from normal.

No, in response, their growl built into a rapid, hungry thing. Thick in their chest and certainly loud enough not only for Brutus, but for the crowd to hear.

Which, of course, was intentional. Storm spirit growls sounded different to most creatures. Jolting and disorienting and strange. They sounded more mechanical than organic. It put the crowd on the edge of their seats. Distantly, they heard the announcer saying something or other about it, but they couldn’t care.

Ameokk circled Brutus as well, watching hir every movement.

The twist of hir ankles. The way hir hooves met the soil.

Their claws twitched as they walked, itching to tear and dig, and Brutus was a yet unmarked canvas.

The crowd quieted as they studied eachother.

The thing was, they had fought eachother enough times that there was only so many ways it could go.

Brutus couldn’t attack Ameokk outright, moving risked placing hemself in a vulnerable position. It was better to wait for them to come to hir, where xe could latch on and drain their keyaa dry.

Similarly, Ameokk couldn’t hurt Brutus without getting in close, but they had to be fast enough to not get trapped or sustain too much damage.

In short, it was a battle of both speed and endurance.

Speed, endurance, and of course, trickery.

With a smile, Ameokk charged toward hir, shouting, “Kem akerka yervav!”

Brutus brandished three thorny vines in their direction, ready to strike as Ameokk approached.

See, Brutus may have assumed their spell was to boost their speed, wanting to see if they could be fast enough to take out their other wing. Which, the spell was for that, technically.

But that wasn’t their plan with it.

Just before Ameokk got in reach of hir vines, they changed course and dipped to the side. They were going fast enough that they nearly faceplanted into the wall, but was still able to shoot off, “Akerka kesyujakav.”

A wave of wind blasted into Brutus, taking hir off hir hooves and making hir skid partway across the arena, where xe landed on hir side.

Before xe could get up, they were on hir.

The multicolored spotlights reflected off their talons as they made shreds of Brutus’s plant armour with one hand, and held down hir head with the other, wanting to avoid getting knicked by hir antlers. In the same moment, they gnawed off their other wing. Or rather, began gnawing, all while Brutus’s sharp hooves kicked at them.

The material was tough, and Amek hadn’t managed to bite exactly on the base. Instead, they got a ropey, bitter mouthful that they had to thrash and chew to cut through. Brutus was writhing under them too much to adjust to its base. Hir kicking made the tender flesh of their belly bruise and bleed, and slowed their focus on gnawing.

Finally, it snapped off, and the crowd roared. Amek was able scrape a few good gashes into hir now-armourless flank when,

“Su dus.” Brutus snarled in their ear.

Immediately, Ameokk released Brutus’s head made to escape to the air, but hir vine-tail coiled tight onto their arm.

Momentum interrupted, and thorns digging into the flesh of their arm, Ameokk’s brain stuttered.

Stuttered for too long, even if too long was just a few seconds, because in those few seconds three things happened.

One. The vine-tail’s thorns were drawing blood, and since it was still latched onto them, xe was drinking their blood. Ameokk felt their keyaa seeping out of them in a cold weariness that began to weigh on their body.

Two. Brutus grew several more vines to snap around Ameokk, pulling them to the ground. The vines were weak, summoned only by Su dus, such a simple spell, but numerous enough that the precious time it took Ameokk to bite and dislodge them off was all the more time for Brutus to eat at their keyaa.

Three. Brutus got back to hir feet, teeth barred and invigorated from that small boost of keyaa. The gashes Ameokk had made, now spitting blood onto the soil, weren’t likely much concern for hir.

(And what a sight was that. Hir, heavy breathes filtering through those hungry teeth. Hir, cream fur streaked with scarlet. With difficulty, they tore their eyes away and focused.)

Ameokk was back in the air, but lilting. Their head felt a bit fuzzy from the sudden draining of keyaa from their core. And of course, all of the cuts and knicks they’d gotten weren’t helping any.

As they stuttered in the air, their crystal necklace thumped against their chest.

Ah yes, it did seem a good time for that, didn’t it.

“Well, Well, my Dear,” they clasped the crystal, and its thrumming warmth beat into their hand, “I have a surprise for you. For all of you, in fact!”

They bore down, and the crystal broke with a satisfying crack. The crowd screeched in thrill.

As it broke, keyaa flowed out from it in delicious golden streams and rushed straight into their core. A grin split across their face as the hot buzz of energy made their limbs feel light as air and strong as iron.

They didn’t give Brutus time and began casting, “Kem, sersav, kesaab’myabban-uo, em-berka –“

Brutus cursed, and launched a thorny vine towards them.

 They narrowly dodged it, “– sekha keerjm, haukm es meka vermmavke –” and swiveled higher into the air. While in a serious situation, it would have been smarter to stay there, out of hir reach. However, that wasn’t fun or showy.

Instead, they flitted about Brutus. “– erjm verej –“ Doing elegant twirls as they avoided the teeth of hir vines. “– vusod ert koderat.” Sometimes winking at the crowd or blowing a kiss.

“Em-verja  –“ The air whipped against their skin every time they did a sharp turn, and the crowd going wild in their ears only made their core jitter faster. “–ert Anuo vu –”

A few thorns certainly met their flesh, but they were sure the spotlights caught the spurts of red as they flew in the air, as they met the sky-blue of their pelt, like buds of roses in spring. “– kesevm sebha akvera…”

The final command was held thickly behind their teeth. They paused, though still dodging, and that meant everyone knew the spell was done, all that was left was to activate it.

But they held off. Let the crowd hush again. let Brutus grow tired of trying to shoot them down and instead, quietly begin to rebuild parts of hir armour as they rose into the air, out of hir reach.

With a grin, they spread their arms, angled their lengthy body in an alluring swirl, and when they spoke their voice rang out.

 “Kem Yaema³.”

The air ignited with the movement of keyaa, though invisible to the eye.

Warmth was sapped from their core like a sheet of ice had been slapped against their chest, but they were expecting that from such a complex spell, and did well to not show it on their face, only dipping slightly in the air.

Behind them, the mote of water rose in a wave of liquid tentacles.

Those tentacles branched into wriggling fingers, and as the spotlights hit them, the crowd would realize there was not only water there.

No, the liquid was clouded, holding something.

With a flick of Ameokk’s tail, that something congealed into numerous, organized spherical masses within the water.

The crowd awed, some shrieking with perhaps a mix of wonder and fear.

Ameokk had trapped grains of sand and soil in their water.

Water ordered creatures were already rare enough, but that level of control? Well, even being a storm spirit, it had taken them a while to master this one. Lots of the sleepless nights nursing their aching core to say the least.

But oh, it was well worth it.

Because water hurt a lot more when there was something solid in there.

Amek gave a cunty little wave and said, “Bye bye, Brutus.”

The wave sped towards hir, and xe was only able to bring up a few vines as shields, attempt to root hir limbs to the ground, before it crashed into hir.

Xe hit the wall. And though the water muffled the thud, it looked hard.

Now, if this were anyone but Brutus, they would have been much meaner. As it were, they gave hir a discrete air bubble so xe wouldn’t drown. Amidst the sand clouded water, it could not be seen.

They held hir in there for a few moments before a pang zapped through their core, and they released the spell.

The water fell in a slosh, most of it rushing back to the mote. No longer floating in the water, Brutus hit the ground a soggy coughing mess, particles of dirt and sand clinging to hir fur.

Good, xe remembered to pretend xe was drowning.

They shifted in the air thinking of their next move while they gave Brutus a brief moment to collect hirself. But then their core throbbed again. Their head felt a bit chilled and fuzzy too.

They could remain in the air, but it would only deplete them further. They reverted to a quadrupedal form and returned to the ground with a hefty thump.

There was a few gasps and cheers from the crowd. Getting Ameokk out of the air was something few creatures ever achieved. If not for the damage they had sustained earlier, that spell wouldn’t have knocked them out so bad.

But, wow, they had not lasted as long as they usually did, against Brutus, atleast.

Amek murmured, too low for even Brutus to hear. “Kem sejm, bem bem.”

Two short, weak gusts of wind blew at the back of Brutus’s head. They saw hir tail raise, then sway twice back and forth before stilling.

They’d both had their fun truly going at eachother. Now it was time to end it.

They would still hurt eachother. They had to, the crowd was hungry for action, for blood.

But they trusted Brutus not to hurt them too badly, and Brutus the same with Ameokk when, next time, it was hir turn to go down.

There were ways to make blows look like they hurt a lot more than they truly did.

Ameokk charged for Brutus again, and xe angled hir head down, antlers ready to strike.

They ducked, but gave hir an opening.

Xe knocked into them, a few vines scraping across their limbs, but hir antlers only grazed them, when they could have easily pierced.

Despite this, Ameokk reacted as if they had gone much deeper, roaring in exaggerated pain as they headbutted Brutus, intending to send hir to the ground.

Which xe went easily, though they had not hit hir hard, xe kicked up dust like they had.

They sunk their teeth into hir side, where they had removed the armour from earlier. With their body over Brutus as it was, they knew it would be unclear whether they had bitten a critical area or not, or how deep they had bitten. Which was hardly at all.

Just enough to draw blood and make it look bad. And it did look back, with the way Brutus snarled at them in response. Both of their pelts were a mess of red stains at this point.

When Brutus’s vine-tail dug back into their side, Ameokk made it look as though they were frantically trying to get away, but in reality, hardly put up a fuss. Brutus, equally so, wasn’t truly holding them down. Though xe was still slowly draining them, they knew xe couldn’t stop that.

Hir backhoof raised to kick them, and they followed the blow, slamming themself into the ground and shutting their eyes for a few seconds for good effect.

Their head was feeling fuzzy again, that sinking, cold sensation seeping into them as several other vines began to slither ontop of them.

Their eyes opened blearily.

With all the spotlights on them, Brutus’s tan fur looked golden.

Golden and battered and bloodied. Chunks of hir wool were missing and the rest was muddied with blood. Only a third of hir armour remained, and what did, was hanging off hir in scraps. They hadn’t given hir any time to regrow it proper. Worst of all, at some point, hir mask had ripped partway off, and a single eye, just as golden, was visible.

And yet, xe exuded strength like it was a physical thing. A fire in the air.

It was with little hesitance that Ameokk knew, if they both had gone at it genuinely, they would have beaten eachother beyond recognition. And honestly, Brutus may have still come on top.

Xe gazed down at them with that single eye, and planted a hoof triumphantly upon their chest, holding them down.

They felt dizzy. They felt a rush.

Under hir hoof, their core thrummed hot. And with it, the world fell away.

There was no crowd, there was no announcer, no diamond, no commoners nor royals, no Valencia nor Pyridekk.

There was Brutus.

And xe was striking.