there was one place renard had found that echoed the forest in any way. the tunnels twisted and turned in on themselves, with an ending renard could not even begin to guess. not even several hours’ investigation, long enough that the sun had set and bathed the desert and the cracks in the walls in shadow, had given them more than a ghost of an idea of which tunnel went where – an endless loop of orange sand and blood-red clay, flooded nearly elbow-deep with water.
renard had a good eye – enough to note the dangerous places. where the water flowed too fast and too white, hiding rocks under the surface. where the walls closed in too tightly, enough that someone who slipped in was in danger of never slipping out again.
they would learn, no matter how many turns and twists there were. this place held promise – if they could understand that promise, a stranger who ran in here would never find the exit again. not with teeth at their heels; not with renard running them down.
Donovan skulks about the slim passage ways of the Catacombs. The sickly blue-white light of the moon hanging above only shines through in some places. Creating a beam of white like that seems almost ethereal if one hasn’t seen it before. Though as the shadows overcame the vibrant reds of the blood stained canyon, he seems to have lost his way. No out of the ordinary noises sound through the halls of the dangerous territory. That is until he hears footsteps.
Immediately he goes to investigate, going into a brisk trot to swing his head cautiously around a corner of shadowed rock. A form meets his eyes and for a second, he’s alarmed. Until he notices the curl of a tail on the others hips and he feels a rush of certainty come over him. That has to be Renard. Unless it’s just his mind playing tricks on him.
Now more secure of where his paws fall, he chuffs to allow them to know he’s coming. Followed by an inquisitive, “Renard?”
they’d found it hard enough to move quietly in the sand. the cavern walls amplified the loose stone that shifted with every step, and look, no matter how much of an expert you were in keeping quiet, it was downright impossible in water. they’d be annoyed, except it kind of worked here – you hear the thing coming for you, and it echoes, and there’s nowhere to go.
so that was kind of fun. less fun was the pause they took to step over a thin river in the rocky sand, giving them plenty of time to hear steps, and drawing up, renard whirled around – they didn’t think about it, it was likely a saint, but yeah, after all that thought it wasn't so fun to have the tables turned –
“donovan.”
renard huffed, tension not completely faded but banked, and gave a tiny tilt of their head. “something you're looking for? or is it just the allure of wandering through a cave in the dark?"
Donovan’s laugh echoes throughout the halls and bounces off the oddly shaped rocks. He’s relieved to see that it is them. Pawing up to meet them head on, he shrugs. “Not particularly, though I do like exploring caves.” He comments idly.
As he reaches them, he nudges the wolfdog with a leathery nose, eyeing the other playfully. “You were scared weren’t you?” He teases and shoves his body furher onto them in an exaggerated, but playful push.
one ear twitched as donovan’s laugh echoed off the cavern walls, amplified into a roar. donovan truly had no sense of stealth, but you couldn’t expect it of everyone. there was something to be said for a juggernaut, as long as renard wasn’t the one barreling straight into a pair of waiting jaws.
they snorted, but they were smiling now, a knife’s edge of a thing. “then you’ll be glad to hear there’s plenty left to go. you can lead the rest of the way, with those oversized paws of yours.”
they were willing to let the nudge to their shoulder pass; the full-body shove to their side almost knocked them off their feet. “terribly,” they said in a deadpan, recovering their footing before they leveled their shoulder hard back into donovan’s. they weren’t nearly his size or strength, and also found it a little silly, but when in rome. or something. “it’s the face, i think.”
Roll here! Went ahead and put it on our last roll thread. ;)
“I’d be glad to lead us through these nightmarish passage ways and safely back home.” He says in jest.
Though at Donovan’s latest tease Renard hits him back with their own shove, he takes a couple of steps in an attempt to right himself. A good embarrassing stumble and Donovan is eyeing Renard down devilishly.
“Oh it’s my face, huh?” He asks in a low hum.
“Maybe you’re just terrified of my good looks.”
Just as he gives the terrible one liner, he’s pouncing towards the other, rearing back on hind legs. His weight in set into his paws and backed up by a strong, muscled body. Surely that push should’ve done some.
“It’s your turn to scare me now.”
likewise!
“my hero.” they said in a voice as dry as the desert sand.
donovan looked down over them with his several extra inches of height, and spoke, and it was a near thing that they didn’t just come out with if they landed you with nemisis. but that…relationship…needed more examining before they could start poking at it. there was still part of them stuck on the thought that this was all some joke one of them was playing, because surely…
well, it wouldn’t be the last time they held their tongue. that was going to get a workout here. “good looks? that’s what you call them?”
donovan had given them more than enough time to realize where this was building, especially when he came up on his hind legs like a horse. but renard was still stuck on empty desert plain mode, and the cavern walls were narrow and unfamiliar, and no matter how they swung to the side they weren’t avoiding it. the larger man barrelled into them, joking along the whole time, and renard bounced off the smooth sandstone like a pinball.
and bouncing off rocks fucking hurt. even if nothing was broken. bruised just enough to feel it tomorrow.
they took a moment to catch their breath. “all right.” then, uncoiling like a snake, went straight for donovan’s throat, looking to grab hold and bite down – just hard enough to feel it a little – so that they could have a moment of satisfaction murmuring “how about that,” an effect destined to be ruined by how muffled their voice would be.
you couldn’t have everything.
When Donovan shoves at the smaller with large paws and a dangerous strength behind it, he doesn’t expect it but he goes bouncing off of the canyon wall. He almost sucks in a breath just watching the scene, almost ready to go and apologize. That is until he’s running straight towards Donovan and wrapping teeth around his throat.
The punch of pain isn’t unknown to him, therefore it doesn’t so much as bother him. He knows that the real spar starts now. Twisting and turning, he attempts to find the high ground and loosen Renard’s grip on his neck. Curling in on himself he’s able to snap at the muscle of their shoulder. Surely enough to destruct but Donovan is unable to know if he’ll be able to get out of their grip.
rolled hit
they might have some bruised ribs in the morning, but donovan didn’t have much room to maneuver either. their jaws wrapped around his throat and caught, and a rush of adrenaline coiled through their limbs. it felt good. respect or not, leader or not, all they’d have to do was bite down.
but this wasn’t a real fight, and renard didn’t really want to kill him. just fuck with him a little. for fun.
and as long as they didn’t want to kill him, the thrashing around was all he needed to do to get free. they could tighten their grip, and all that would do was tear his throat open, so they were forced to let go. coiling back against the stone and slightly hampered by their injured ribs, leaving donovan more than enough space to come down and rake his teeth across their shoulder.
fucking…confined spaces. nonlethal spars. growling – this one with a little harder edge than last time – renard lifted their head and drove forward, snapping at the side of his face.
After a unknown amount of time of Donovan thrashing about, which really would’ve gotten him killed in a real battle, he’s able to get out of the others grip. And he’s not giving himself any rest time either. Directly after he’s released, he’s baring teeth towards Renard’s throat.
He just barely misses and stumbles past him. Oh boy, is he doing horrible today.
their teeth grazed the side of donovan's face, a glancing blow that did no real damage but gave them the chance to avoid his following lunge by mere inches, his jaws bared after their throat. they weren't about to let him turn that one around on them so easily.
there was no time for a snarky response when there was a perfect opportunity lying before them. head ducked, renard shot forward, jaws wide to catch around the upper portion of his back leg. when their teeth set around the limb, they would set their paws into the rocky sand and hold, seeking to use his forward momentum unbalance the man and knock him to the ground; whether he fell heavy or not, well, that depended on if he could adapt in time.
Gonna take Renard’s hit with no roll I hope that’s not a problem. ;>
Donovan is really getting his ass handed to him tonight. Maybe he’s distracted by the beautiful pattern of Renard’s coat illuminated by the sickly moonlight. Or maybe he’s tired. Who knows what it really is. Perhaps it’s the fact that he plays with his pack mates so much that he just expects them not to turn it into a real fight. If there’s no real threat, he doesn’t have to worry about winning or losing.
So he flops down hard onto his side, a huff of breath exiting his lungs. Then a breathy laugh as yellow eyes look up to Renard’s own stunning lilac ones.
“You’re on your ‘A game’ tonight. Huh, peaches?” He hums from his spot in the dirt.
“It seems I’m not.” Then he rolls into his back, coating his pelt with fine granulates of the red substance.
“I think I’m just gonna lay here for a sec. catch my breath.” He winks over to the other wolf dog teasingly.
they didn’t usually get serious during their spars. the ribs, and maybe the canyon walls rising up all around them, maybe the bare sliver of moonlight coming through the gaps in the rock – in the end they ended up standing over him. lips curled. breathing hard but silent. something old coiled bright-eyed in the depths of their chest.
there was still no kill to be found here. renard stood over him, blank-faced even as donovan grinned back up at them, on his back in the dirt and still flirting shamelessly.
after a long pause, the snarl faltered and died, replaced with the white curve of a smile. “sorry. think you caught me off guard.” the dull ache of their side throbbed with each breath. for all the times they'd fought him before, they'd never come away with more than a scratch for their trouble; survival instinct was a vicious thing to a career killer. “seems i haven’t lost my touch after all.”
meeting his rather unsubtle invitation with a hum, renard padded a half-circle around him, adjusting to the ache pulsing in their side. “and here you said you’d lead me safely back home.” the smile flickered wider as they settled comfortably back into their rhythm. taking a fight too seriously wasn’t worth their concern – wasn’t that why they were here? “you’ll hurt my feelings, keeping us too long.”
Donovan fakes a frown and gives a sad hum when Renard steps off of him. “Damn, I was hoping you’d join me.” He drawls then his faces splits into a devious smirk. Rolling to his paws and shaking out his fur. “I would definitely say you haven’t lost your touch, dear.” Then he begins walking past them and slips his body alongside Renard’s briefly. “Too bad I cant feel it in a different way, no?” He comments casually. As if he literally didn’t just invite Renard to touch him inappropriately. His tone spoke more like he’s discussing the weather with the other mutt.
His golden hues that river the stars glance sky to them. “I’d never want to hurt your feelings. Come let’s head home.” He chuckles.
renard’s huff clearly said i know. because what they were missing from their life was nemisis chasing them across the canyon for daring them to lay a single indecent finger on donovan, of course. there was at least one other chomping at the bit to do that instead; who would they be to deny her?
still, they were curious if it would actually encourage him next time. maybe he’d stop giving up when the tables started turning in their favor. it was difficult to get a full picture of someone who wasn’t taking things seriously – and renard still wanted to know what donovan looked like when he wasn't just fucking around.
all right.
“you’re very forward for someone who hasn’t won any of our spars. not very impressive, is it?” renard returned the smirk as their sides brushed, just the briefest contact, and slipped away. dipped their muzzle expectantly towards the exit, curious if actually remembered the way out. “how about you pin me next time. then we’ll...talk."
As they walk side by side he hears a huff come from Renard and expectantly Donovan looks in their direction. They meet him with the same energy — a smirk and a brush of their sides. They’re definitely calling him out and all of a sudden Donovan feels the competitive side of him flare at the challenging and very promising words.
His bows raise and his same curls challengingly. “That’s a dangerous game, peaches. I might just have to take a spar seriously from now on out.” Then he hums with a look of the devil on him. “Challenge accepted then.”
minor pp approved :)
renard smiled. “is it?” yet to be seen. it shouldn’t have been a surprise that this was what did it, but they’d reserve judgment until their next spar. …the picture was coming along nicely, even without a demonstration of his actual fighting skill. “i look forward to it.” not for the reason he was, certainly.
but that was all to handle later. donovan moved to lead their exit, as promised – renard wasn’t about to let the teasing go yet, and there was something amusing in his willingness to agree – and as the remnants of sunset over the canyon fell completely away into the dark, they made their way back out of the catacombs and into the night.