Tempestatem

They meet in the sky. 

The wearers of red and the wearers of blue.

Their ships line, gather their strength. The lines swell and press forward, eager for battle.

There is the sudden start.

The ships crash in a great, rolling, thunderous cacophony.

Their swords clash together, arcs of blue sent plunging all around.

The crashing is all around.

Then.

It mellows.

The battle is nearly over.

A few still crash together. 

Ominous.  

Deadly.

One side will win and rule the skies. 

For a time.

’Til the forces are rallied again.

And thunder and lightning shall again rip the skies.