[b]DONOVAN HORSKA[/b]

Damn.

For a second there Donovan actually hoped that the plan would work. An all-out attack from all angles, it should have been awesome. Plus it wasn’t every day that he got to throw someone. He was hoping that the special occasion would reap its profits. Ah well, he was only slightly bummed. They should’ve known better than to pick a fight with an experienced magi. If it was one thing Donovan Horska knew how to do, it was how to choose his battles. To get swept up with the excitement of teaming up with other magic users, it was fucking reckless. He was better than that, so much better. 

Corrections and revisions ran through his mind as he sailed through the air.

Ah, Varus’ explosion based power. They really shouldn’t have underestimated its range and power. Of course a half-assed sneak attack wouldn’t trump an ability with this area of effect.

Nico’s limp noodle of a body slammed into him.

Right, they shouldn’t have assumed that their amateurish magic would have even made a dent on the guy. Fucking Nico. Couldn’t even get his one little trick right. But he couldn’t take all the blame. Donovan guessed that the more you trained, the more resistance you gained to the magic of others. His and Nico’s attempts to quell him barely even made him break a sweat. 

Both Donovan and Nico hit the ground with a dull thud. The impact forcibly beat the breath out his chest; something that wasn’t helped by the fucking idiot that landed on top of him then proceeded to get knocked out. God, it was just a big ironic part switch of the morning’s event. Donovan viciously swiped the guy’s body off of him, having him flop unceremoniously onto the ground next to him. Fuck, everything was sore. He was tired. He was hurting. And he fucking lost. Donovan grit his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t strong. His magic, everything he staked his pride on, had been blown away by a guy who just demolished the match and left because he was feeling peckish. Donovan could make all the excuses in the world but there was only one person to blame for his inability. 

Slowly, and painfully, he picked himself up and dusted himself off. Some others were already making casual conversation. He took a few breaths, then summoned his trademark cocky smirk to regain his swagger and join the others. He needed to move on. He needed to get stronger. And as much as he would’ve liked to sulk about it some more, he wasn’t going to get anything from it. It wasn’t the logical thing to do.

[color=f26522]“About bloody time,”[/color] he quipped, though an observant person might have noticed how half-hearted the snarkiness was now, [color=f26522]“I’m fucking starving. What kinda food do you think they’ll have at magic school, eh?”[/color]

He glanced at the wreckage strewn around their battlefield. There were still a few people dazed and on the ground. Some, like Nico and Mikhail it seemed, were even out cold. 

[color=f26522]“Sooo, do we just leave these slackers on the ground?”[/color] he inquired, gesturing at Nico’s unconscious form, [color=f26522]“cos honestly, I’m cool with that. You’re not gonna find me carrying any of these losers.”[/color]

[@RoflsMazoy] [@Mercurial] [@GreenGoat]