[[i'll.humor.you]]

[s o y ღ]

becauseican

do you know how long i've been waiting for this?

Adrenaline rushed throughout his entire being, eyes alight with the excitement of the upcoming fight. He knew he was wasting valuable energy, running like this, but he couldn't help it. He was so excited, in a morbid sort of way, and if he didn't watch himself he might do a little dance. And that was in no way dark. At all. So the blood bay kept his mouth shut and he ran, extending. He felt parallel to the ground, and he loved it. He felt like if he had wings tacked onto his sweaty body he would be soaring high above the world. A foreboding laugh rumbled through his insides, slowing the stallion down ever so slightly. Not that he was going all that fast in the first place, but ah well.
Leo was no racehorse, not in any form. He was pretty slow, only adding the essential small burst of speed for a short distance as fate called. If he was being pursued he could shake his followers by pushing his short legs to the extreme and making a sharp turn, then hiding somewhere where a slighter horse like Leo could fit. His body usually blended with the shadows, but in the sunlight he had a gleam.
Not that he usually ran from a fight. No, most of the time he laughed in the face of the foes, then took them down without breaking a sweat.
Because most of the time his foes were unexpierenced, relied on sheer instincts, which always failed them. And Leo played that to his advantage.

The stallion lowered his head and gave a small buck as he ran, wasting more energy. His coat was glossy with sweat, and his sides and heart were working a little harder than usual. He slowed, sensing that this was it. This was the place. The Stew, Ruben had said as they'd taken flight. It bore nothing of importance. It was just a long, flat stretch of land.
At least nothing was going to stand in the way between him and the palomino. A wicked grin could not be restrained, and he trotted off a few paces, more towards the center. He sort of gave the appearance of a sitting duck, vunerable, dense. He was none of those. Sometimes it might seem he was the latter, but in reality Leo was quite bright. How he used his wits, though, was a different story. And vunerable he definately was not. He had no holes in his defence and offense strategies. Leo knew how to fight; and could easily fight to the death--of the other, that is. But with this one it might not get quite that far. As stuck-up and concieted as he was, he knew the other had some experience. Just one look at the disarray of scars scattered throughought his pelt was enough to tell that he'd gotten in a number of fights--and survived. Leo did have a few scars, but none too obvious. He liked sneaking up on his enemies and killing them before they even knew he was there. This would be different.
He knew how to fight like this, though. His parents had taught him well.

Head swung 'round to the direction he assumed Ruben would come from. He really didn't even know why he'd agreed to these silly rituals; he could've just as easily taken the palomino back at Sezlan. Maybe he'd push him into that hole when he was done with him. It did seem fairer here, though. But darks seldomly played by the rules of fairness. Sucker punches were what they thrived upon. No chivalry or nobility could be seen in their eyes; and they would get dirty to win a fight. At least, darks like Leo.
He had little pride. And it showed.

"Oh, Ruben, come out, come out, wherever you are..."

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[..!INZ.z]

♠..

i'm GUNNiNGdown romance

[/color]
it NEVER did a t h i n g[/color] for me
but heart[/color]ACHE and m i s e r y[/u]
ain't NOTHiNGbut a tragedy[/color]
[/center][/font]

Ruben had stopped running some time ago. Now he picked his way over the barren terrain at an amble, head low and mind focusing on where he put his feet. The ground here was broken, ruptured snags of toothy rock and great mats of dead briar obliterating any possible pathway; as it was the palomino was following the parched bed of a long-extinct stream, but even here mounds of rubble lay strewn where banks had collapsed, and the corpses of thirsting creatures leered from dusty graves.

Now, as the day reached its pinnacle and the clouds retreated from the sky, a piercing heat beat down upon the land. Ruben felt the sun worming into his back as an intense, glaring eye: his skin prickled under the merciless stare, and sweat gathered in every crease of his sinuous form. He had never been particularly adept in the heat, but he knew he could not let that obstruct him now: whatever it took, and however long it took, he had to beat Leo.

The palomino wasn't sure what triggered this steely determination. Perhaps because he was a Light, and his opponent Dark - perhaps he felt he had to crush this so-called creature of the night, just to prove that Lights weren't so very pathetic when it came to fighting. True enough, Ruben had never been a spectacular fighter. He didn't have the effortless grace experienced warriors seemed to possess, but it mattered not: his methods were perhaps not pretty to behold, but at least he got the job done. Mostly. In these past few years Ruben had had to learn very, very fast, and he hadn't gleaned his fighting skills from other Lights.

So if Leo was expecting some honorable whelp who would play by the rules, he could think again.

At last, beyond the blaring light of the full sun, Ruben spied his destination. Ahead the ground tumbled down into a wide dish, a crater of sorts, though the hollow had long since been filled with rocks, roots and other debris from the storm which had swept through Dreaver. In years past this almost gladiatorial arena had been used for battles, but he and Leo would just have to settle with sparring on its treacherous lip.

And, speaking of the stallion, Ruben lifted his head to spot his powerful form, twenty strides away. As he neared the palomino felt the excitement run through his blood once again, and he found age-old instinct sculpting his neck into a bowed arch; tipping his ears back into his folds of flaxen mane; goading his limbs into an arrogant, high-stepping prance; and adding to his eyes that maddened glint that always occurred before bloodshed.

He was so close now. He heard Leo speak out: Ruben chuckled with amusement, and suppressed the urge to chant here I come, ready or not. But no. Somebody had to be mature here.
Ruben opened his mouth to utter some pointless greeting, then hesitated. He was coming at Leo from behind: he was pretty sure the stallion hadn't noticed him yet. Well, he might as well start things off.

The palomino bounced forward, carefully measured energy exploding with the last few strides it took to reach his enemy. At the last moment he pivoted, swinging his hind legs with a ferocious buck in the general direction of Leo's rump. Now wouldn't it be funny if the Dark stumbled over the edge and into the crater?
[/blockquote][/size]