But Spark's sudden appearance of pain, their 'ow,' had him dropping the shield (with a bit of a clatter), his head swinging toward them. He felt concern blooming in his chest, for perhaps the first time, and he found himself tottering the couple steps to the hybrid.
That was rather ominous, and he stepped quickly back again, that unpleasant sensation of fear spiking through him.
Spark huffed, a small puff of steam leaving their breath as their insides cooled again. They shook themselves like a long, wet dog, as if the sensation was something that had clung to their skin. Raising their head once again, they blinked at Wicker, unsure as to why he seemed tentative. They felt some of his magic now, a strange visceral sensation, as if something within had sprung to life within their organs. They felt better, healthier.
"I'm fine." Spark reassured simply, padding towards the shield that Wicker had dropped. They'd attempt to continue the conversation as if nothing happened, not really wanting to admit the misfire. While they didn't know exactly what had gone wrong, they had some sense that they themself was responsible.
They moved to the old shield, the one the foal had dropped with a loud clatter, and sat on their haunches so they could pick it up to examine more closely. "I've seen something like this I think - smaller, though." They rotated it carefully in their little talons, the sheer size of it threatening to slip from their grasp again. They halted their rotation to feel around the outer side, or what they assumed to be the outer side due to the curve of its shape. They wanted to see if it had the same detailing as the one the jaguar had chosen, but whatever might've been there had been eaten away. In fact, this metal seemed to be in much worse condition than the other. "Haven't seen it used. Maybe you use it to stop things from attacking you?" They had only heard of the hostile wildlife within the cave system, but they felt it could warrant this kind of response.
"speaking" and thoughts
Wicker was, as it turned out, rather easily distracted by the shield. Fear faded and curiosity shifted to the old hunk of metal, and he came forward again, leaning down to try and touch his bone-like skullface to the surface.
the foal’s previous hesitance apparently forgotten, Spark held the old shield still so Wicker could get a good look. It took him longer to come to a similar conclusion, they reckoned having hooves instead of hands had something to do with it. Sure, it wasn’t a piece of cake to handle the the object when you’re longer than you’re tall by a lot, but the hybrid’s owl-like talons certainly made it less of a hassle.
“Maybe,” they responded thoughtfully, considering the possibilities. ”I don’t think I can do anything like that though, can you?” Their magic they had presently was nothing to write home about, and they weren’t eager to attempt using it again after what had just transpired. Maybe this horse would have something up his sleeve? They ducked down behind the shield, in case the foal wanted to test this theory early.
"speaking" and thoughts
The foal's response of
He didn't yet harbor his own strains of bacteria, but his magic could sense the stuff and purge it--so maybe he could blow it about, too? He'd have to check afterward, but it seemed like it would work. And it seemed like... the shield would probably stop it? He didn't see much fuzzy white inside rocks and things, after all; mostly it seemed to stick to the outsides.
He inhaled, drew his magic together and exhaled; a little puff of invisible bacteria gently splattered over the shield.
It was rather anti-climactic.
Spark, though they waited patiently, silently prayed that Wicker wouldn't take long. This shield was heavvyy. Though they weren't struggling yet, their talons were beginning to slide. He wouldn't take much longer though, a part of Spark could feel the magic tensing and releasing like a swinging arm, and they shrunk back even more, unsure of what to expect.
They got silence.
When the foal talked again, they rose from behind the shield, setting it down and looking at it curiously. Nothing had changed, no scorch masks, no scratches. After having a good close look (without touching this time, they knew just because they couldn't see something didn't mean it wasn't there), they looked to Wicker again with a mixture of expectance and confusion. They really had no clue what this horse could do, and the demonstration hadn't helped much.
"speaking" and thoughts