Elemental OCL Icarus: Round 3 - what goes up, comes down - 1268 words

In which seepran acknowledges that magma is cooler than the melting point of glass, but decides to ignore that fact completely.

 

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Icarus paced back and forth, his trajectories snappy, and turns outright hostile - their underlying aftertaste giving out a tinge of desperation.

 

This was unfair. This was stupid. How could he lose, if he nearly tore apart that smug wasp... Van... Vambrace... Ugh, the vam-something guy! That should've counted as something!

 

What did it even matter? Icarus was a failure, and nothing could change that. He had almost lost to a dog, and deemed not destructive enough against a mustache rack. He could still win two rounds out of three, but what value would it even hold?

 

He wasn't enough. Karmen would throw him away like a filthy rag.

 

Icarus growled at himself like a cornered house cat. His head and neck pressed downwards, as catastrophic images invaded his mind of ones and zeroes. The protrusions of his mask pressed backwards as he held his head between his hands, his grip tightening with every step.

 

On the other side of the arena, past the quietly raging river of boiling hot lava, stood the wyfex's formidable foe - Pinnley, his last name just as fearsome as his first - Feathers. The small cockatiel ruffled his chest feathers and raised his crest to appear even more frightening - but confusion got the better of him. A puzzled expression veiled his beaked face, as his large, blue eyes followed the slender biped on the opposite side of the coliseum.

 

Oh no. Was that who he was supposed to fight this round?

 

But what was Pinnley, if not particular about good first impressions? He lifted his dominant front paw from the depths of his bright-colored cloak, and greeted the fellow tournament-goer. He froze as he realized, that all he had mustered was a high-pitched squeak.

 

Icarus came to a halt. He lowered his arms, and snapped his artificial eyes to the small creature.

 

What even was that thing? A squeaky dog toy? What could it even do? It was petrified from terror alone!

 

Something began to whir in the wyfex's chest. Icarus straightened himself. He lifted one of his feet, and stomped it on the ground. The movement and impact revealed his dark, retractable claws on both of his feet.

 

Was this all they could come up with? Did they think so lowly of him, that they couldn't even get a proper opponent to face him?

 

He. Was not. Losing. To a. SQUEAKY TOY.

 

The sound of a buzzer opened the floodgates of the battle. Pinnley's whole figure flinched, as he saw the wyfex move towards him. Its speed made the feathers on his neck stand up. Think. Quick!

 

For the small bird's fortune, Icarus had to reevaluate the situation - an obstacle stood between him and his goal. The heat of the liquid rock bubbling away forced the wyfex to step back, and think.

The constructed river was too wide to cross by just leaping, even for him. While it did have some stones peeking out of the lava, they weren't an option for his bare feet. Icarus was quite eager to keep his joints in working condition, not even mentioning his white cranium - plastics didn't do well with heat.

Icarus glanced behind him, his sensors scanning a pile of glass sheets. At least something was still being taken seriously. With only a single, wide gesture of his dominant arm, the stacked sheets shattered in unison. Seeing the small ball of feathers nearly jump out of his skin at the sound made the wyfex chuckle.

 

This would be easy.

 

Instead of just dashing over the river of lava with the help of some shredded glass - which was his first idea, albeit a bad one - Icarus gathered the glass closer to him. The shards hovered and spun in circles around his being, as he carefully picked the best pieces for his creation. Following his wordless commands, they moved, one by one. The broken pieces laid themselves flat against the wyfex's shins, chinking a joyous jingle as they did.

The more glass Icarus pulled, the higher he went. Horrified, Pinnley watched as the glass stilts attached to the wyfex's legs only grew taller. He wondered how on earth would this guy be able to walk with sticks like that - but his question was answered as soon as Icarus started to move.

 

Like natural extensions of his body, the glass shards molded their structures around his limbs' trajectories. Like it was nothing out of the ordinary, Icarus could easily walk forward - and so he did.

The first limb he set down onto a stone in the middle of the stream of liquid rock. He lifted the other molding stilt, and placed it onto another hot stone. Icarus could hear the glass crackle as its shape shifted along his movement. He lifted his foot again, and swung it forward.

 

Shit.

 

Instead of securely planting itself onto the next stone, the tip of the glass stilt slipped. It sunk into the lava, giving Icarus a hard time staying in balance. The wyfex could feel the stilt sinking further and further down, even though the indent wasn't supposed to be that deep. Then, it hit him.

 

The damn thing wasn't sinking, it was melting.

 

Not having many options left, Icarus jumped up. He spun around in the air, spreading the molten glass around him in arcs. When he landed, he kicked the stilts off his legs to the best of his ability. It felt like the shards themselves were panicking, many of them refusing to follow instructions in their hysteria.

 

A strange, high-pitched sound drew Icarus' attention.

 

Pinnley was running in circles next to him, his panic many times worse than the one of the wyfex's medium. The molten glass that Icarus had rained down had burned holes onto the cockatiel's cloak, and into his pockets. The bird was scattering millet all over the ground, and even when the fact tore at Pinnley's heart, he couldn't stop. Otherwise, he would've risked getting burned by his very own mantle.

 

Unfortunately for Pinnley, getting some burns was the least of his worries.

 

"ENOUGH," Icarus shouted at the top of his lungs, the peaks of his scream distorting into inhuman screeches. He punched the ground with his fist, and the glass listened to his ire-filled orders once more.

A sudden shower of glass shards from the above forced Pinnley to stop completely, as he got trapped in a ring they created. The small bird watched in terror as Icarus got up to his feet, more shards whirling around him. They shot towards the cockatiel like he was a magnet, and one by one, constructed a ball around him. The glass crackled and wailed as its razor-sharp edges only got closer to Pinnley's body. A mechanical growl soaked in a mixture of scorn and pleasure brewed in the wyfex's throat.

 

This was his win, and a goddamn feather duster couldn't take it from him.

 

Suddenly, the buzzer's ringing sound pierced through the whole arena. It repeated in bursts, as if someone was pressing the button in quick succession, panicking.

The sharp sound pulled Icarus right out of his bloodthirsty downwards spiral. He took steps back, and the death trap around Pinnley shattered. The shards fell to the ground like dead insects. The cockatiel's large eyes met the crosses in the eyeholes of Icarus' mask.

 

Was the wyfex really going to kill him if not for the buzzer?

 

"Sir Icarus," a voice boomed behind the wyfex, making him turn to it. Before him stood two figures, the shapes of both veiled in loose, multicolored cowls. One of them cleared their throat.

"There are things we must discuss."