let them eat cake.

When she had first begun to take lessons from her mother, Antoinette had been precocious, but overeager. Each attack had been preceded with a growl or a snarl or a challenging bugle, but she had eventually learned how to conceal her intentions… at least somewhat. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out that the wild-eyed gleam in her eyes, or the sneer, or the pinned ears, or the gathering muscles, or the whisking tail were indicators of an incoming attack, but at least she had stopped being audible.

So how Ryvar figured it out, Tony didn't know. Either way, the girl's shift means that Tony's attack jars her, too. The impact rattled her bones and she stumbled on the recoil, limbs flailing slightly as she sought to regain her footing on the slippery gravel. Both of them grunted, but it was Ryvar that seemed to recover first, twisting to begin snapping at the pintaloosa's knees. Marcy's daughter hissed as a tooth made contact where only skin separated her bone from said teeth, and she reacted instinctively, jerking the injured leg up and lashing out with her own nips - aimed at Ryvar's neck and crest.

"No!" She snarls in response to her peer's taunt, ears plastered to the side of her fuzzy nape as they part for a moment, two participants in a dance as old as time. When the battle renews, it becomes a bit of a shoving match and Tony leans into it with every ounce of strength she had, her injured forelimb burning with the stress of trying to push her body weight against Ryvar. She grunted as she struggled, her small hooves sliding through the gravel without being able to gain the push she needed.

Gonna go cry to your mommy now? The question only incentivizes Tony more and she comes up with an idea. Abruptly she pulls away from Ryvar, hoping that the sudden loss of force will cause her peer to stumble off balance, and then shoves back full force, hoping to knock her over. "You first!" She snarled, tiny teeth bared.

daughter of marceline.