blood sticks and sweat drips | edgar & augustus
The night sky taunted Edgar, black as pitch and absent of stars. This eerie emptiness encompassed all noise, leaving the forest with an unnatural silence. He could see vague flashes of red and green in the distance, but that was the only indication of the battle that was supposedly raging through the night. Edgar had been instructed to stay on the boundary between tree and field, waiting for a signal indicating that backup was necessary. However, he expected it would never come. His fingers twitched, tightening around his wand in frustration; the impulse to join the fight was strong, an invisible tether that tugged incessantly.
Before Edgar could make any decisions, fate seemed to select for him. A figure shrouded in shadows emerged from the tree-line, wand-raised, ruthless teeth glimmering white in the darkness. Almost simultaneously, red lights assaulted both wizards, illuminating the night with violent hues. Edgar’s wand flew from his hand in an instant and he heard the telltale sound of his opponent’s hitting the ground. Rather than diving to reach his wand, Edgar flew at the wizard with his fists in fighting formation.
His hand collided messily with the man’s jaw, but no bones were broken and he retaliated with vigour. They fought with brutal intent, neither wizard inhibited by strategy; only animalistic instinct. Breathing heavily, Edgar shoved the man to the ground roughly. However, his opponent’s fist was clutched securely around the collar of his jacket and so he too toppled to the ground. They wrestled erratically, panting harshly and scrambling for the upper hand, but the match was frustratingly even.
@avgvstvs