Setting: Evening — 18:00. 73 degrees, slightly windy.
Set outside the Saints Den by the arch. Right after
this hunting thread.
After
@Finley Grebe and his successful hunt of that raccoon. They stored the animal in the cache, but still Donovan is not satisfied. His blood still boils with the action of the hunt. He needs something else. He wants to spar, to fight, to move; anything to get his blood pumping.
So assuming the skillful woman he just hunted with is still in the area, he huffs, looking around for her at first. Then gives up he gives a hearty call of her name.
“Finley!? You around?” He will propose a spar to his newest pack member. Surely she will agree. Or at least he hopes.
short post strikes again whee
After dropping the raccoon off, Finley had taken another scrap from the cache and, having not been prompted to stick around, started leaving the arch behind for a rest or further woodland exploration or whatever the day brought. But clearly, Donovan had other ideas.
Without missing a beat she rebounded right back towards the Saints Den, where Donovan waited. With a small huff Finley announced her return, back on alert for whatever he had in store.
Upon her arrival, she gives a small huff and he can’t help but laugh. “You already tired, darling?” He asks with a mirthful cock of his head. “I’m quite the opposite.” He adds ruefully.
Then he lowers himself into half assed play bow. The curl of his tail waves in a type of wag over his hips and his smirk is devilish. “Spar with me.” He says, challengingly. “Unless you have other business to attend to.” He hums with a tilt of a white brow. At least he’s nice enough to offer her a way out.
Finley’s ears flattened as Donovan broke into a laugh; had she sounded annoyed? She certainly wouldn’t have minded if he’d stopped her before leaving—but like hell if she was letting her unaffected facade break again, least of all around a superior.
Fortunately the Saint seemed to take it in good spirits; he dropped into a lazy play bow, inviting her to another spar. Like child’s play. Of course Finley didn’t have anything resembling “other business,” and it mortified her that he’d been given the impression at all.
But she shook her head quickly, again faking a casual dust-off, and dropped to her best attempt at a play-bow. It resembled a pre-attack crouch more than anything, but no matter. She wasn’t going to pull another surprise, figuring he’d be ready for it, and figured she might as well entertain his theatrics. Just to start.
“Not tired at all,” Finley said, gathering her senses. He was testing her, surely. She’d land a hit this time. She had to.
His smile grows as she mimics his movement. “Good, maybe I can make you tired then.” He hums.
Already he’s bounding up and off the ground in a grand pounce in her direction. Merely for func for the pounce is actually much slower than he anticipated. He won’t be surprised is she’s able to strike him down in mid air at this point. Still he run straight towards her in a haphazardly, predictable move, aiming for a nip on her shoulder, his jaws open menacingly. Only luck will tell if he’s able to hit his mark.
she rollin she dodgin; up to you whether the second non-success means she just doesn’t shove him
over or misses entirely.
“Maybe I can make you tired, then.” Again with the teasing. Maybe someday it would grate on her, but for now she welcomed the challenge with a friendly snarl.
It was Donovan’s turn to launch the offense, bounding towards Finley in an unusually slow move. Damn, was he going easy on her? She sidestepped with a too-easy dodge, then lunged to knock him over before he recovered.
Donovan’s lip curls back frighteningly, though it too is friendly. Predictably, his attack misses with an easy dodge on her part. His teeth snap together at the failed attempt to bite at her shoulder and she’s already rebutting him so soon after his attack.
To he acts quick, has too, she’s probably faster than him anyhow. His head drop low to the ground and his teeth snatch onto her left hind leg, just around her ankle. His teeth easily break skin, but don’t cause much damage other than small cuts. After he’s latches on, he swings his head up high, lifting her leg and kicking the remaining, grounded leg. Effectively knocking her onto her side. Dirt flies everywhere at the ‘graceful’ landing and with a playful nip onto haunches he’s bouncing back to allow her to get up.
Nope nope nope nope
nope not going easy at all. Finley made contact with open air and a stinging pain shot through her lower leg, as if stepping through thorns; but thorns didn’t grab her limbs and
swing, kicking the rest of her limbs out from under her—
Thud. She wasn’t a lightweight wolf and the fall forced wind from her lungs; but if Finley had retained
any of her training, staying down was never an option. A nip at her haunches told her he was behind her now, probably being a smug bastard again, god damn it not
again—
Barely down for another breath, Finley snarled, lunged again at that stupid curly tail; jaws snapped around open air.
Fuck it. She charged forward anyway, snarling, ready to rear into a tackle if she got close enough or even straight-up headbutt the brute in the chest. Anything to get him under
her for a change.
Donovan can see her huffing out an exerted breath at the fall and already she’s scrambling up to come at him. Her willpower is impressive and so is her stamina, pain tolerance too. Initially he planned on moving for an obvious dodge but it seems fate has different plans for him. She comes barreling into him and just as he’s stretching his neck out to bite at her ear, he feels his own feet come out from under him. This time, it’s him on the ground and he lies there ‘helplessly‘ with a black tongue pulling out the side of his mouth. Awaiting the next attack because, surely, with her advantage, she’ll be able to land her next hit.
taking that last bit as a cue to assume Finley’s attack lands, so no roll this round; let me know if anything needs changing!
The adrenaline surge did the trick—head met fur and Donovan was
down. Sheer adrenaline kept any lingering pain at bay as Finley wasted no time throwing herself over him, as a hunter might guard their prey, and reaching to sink her fangs around his neck.
It’s a spar. Conscious thought kicked in at the last moment to hold her back; Finley raised her aim, sparing the throat, and instead bit into his neck on the side. Restraint forced her maw open, just enough to avoid tearing deep into flesh, but beneath the hybrid’s thick mane her tongue still caught the light tang of blood. Here she would stay, hellbent on keeping her hold, until his next move.
Since we both got 3 rounds in I’m going to stop rolling haha :>
Donovan has little to do but submit to the female on top of him. Well, or he could fight her even harder than he was before. Of course he doesn’t usually allow himself to submit to others he will if only on his own accord. So as the she-wolf settles her dangerous maw around his trachea and squeezes he finds it fairly hard to breathe. Soon enough she’s gratefully moving to the side of his neck, mindful of actually not trying to kill him and such. Even then, she still draws blood and the dying of it has him snarling a lip with a smile.
Then where he was tense, paws scrabbling to get her off, he stills completely. His body going limp to signal his submission to the female. He knows she’d be confused.
To her surprise, Donovan had no counter. He fell limp under Finley’s paws. A surge of pride nipped at her, but surely it was too soon to let her guard down? She released her bite, deliberately, as if stepping away from a house of cards, still tense and ready to lunge if he had any tricks.
Even then, soreness gnawed at her limbs, especially where he’d bitten her earlier in the fight. The wound hadn’t quite scabbed yet, but the bleeding had slowed, and Finley’s heightened senses teetered between their mid-battle sharpness and total forfeit. Donovan’s golden eyes gleamed and his lips were curled in a smile. Was that expression glued to his face, or was he just waiting for another chance to send her flying? She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a full retreat without absolute certainty.
Lying on the ground legs splayed out and throat covered in drool he chuckles, rolling to his feet and nodding down to her. He’s wordless still, suspiciously so and his gaze is absolutely devilish. Then in a tiny quick movement he makes it look like he is going to run in her direction, but ultimately never moves from his place. Surely he would’ve gotten her with that one. If not they he’d be standing there looking like a full blown fucking idiot.
Ether way, a booming laugh erupts from his maw and he snickers lowers afterwards, poking fun at her. “I got you there didn’t I?” He asks tiptoeing towards her slyly. “I’m just fucking kidding.” He hums out more casually with a wave of a big paw. “It was a good fight though, dear.”
Still no resistance. Finally she relented and Donovan rose, oddly silent. His abrupt movement sent another jolt of energy through Finley, almost making her drop in a steadfast crouch again to face him head-on, but! no. Fucker was just messing with her, topped off with a laugh and verbal jab. Whatever self-satisfaction she’d gained was stomped aside by annoyance, though Finley only showed it with a sidelong glare as Donovan kept talking. His antics were somehow less endearing after her victory—but he was the leader, and Finley wasn’t in the place to snap.
At least he admitted it was a good fight. Finley replied with a wordless nod, standing still and only turning her head to watch him. That sounded like conclusion enough; she’d let herself relax when officially dismissed.
His hues search the plains of her feminine face and he smiles genuinely at her. He can tell he’s getting on her nerves but she’s doesn’t want to snap at him. Though he appreciates it, he’s rather his pack be brutally honest with him and such. So he paws towards her and nudges her shoulder with a leathery nose.
“You can tell me to stop talking if I’m annoying you, you know.” He chuckles. “I joke around too much not to let others do the same to be. I’m not going to smite you down for fucking around and all that.” The words of comfort are mediocre at best but it’s still something. He enjoys a good joke thrown at him every once in a while.
As if reading her mind, Donovan gave her a nudge and oddly-teasing reassurance that she could tell him to stop. Finley didn’t see herself using that any time soon, never mind joking around—talking back to a superior and lighthearted jabs were foreign on her tongue.
The fight was almost definitely over, at least, and Finley let her stance soften. “Understood,” she said plainly. Maybe someday she’d have it in her to tease; for now she wasn’t sure if her leg was still bleeding.
We can fade here or on your next post. I’m g with whatever. :)
The brindled male huffs a breath out through his nose that could be considered a laugh and nods his head into a random direction.
“Good.” Then he begins walking.
“Let’s go get to fucking water, dear, I’m parched.” Is all he says with a sigh.
If she decides to join him they will walk alongside each other, heading towards the direction of the Takota River.