The Assassin has taken a break from keeping a dutiful frosty eye on his girls, and prying himself away from a Shadewood specifically, he took to gather some alone time from the wonderful abode that housed his Family, as of the moment. While it wasn’t theirs officially, Cry knew he would have to work harder to make it something worth sticking around for. Kai, Phex, Arrowbella (should she still be there), and even Kovertol were looking up to him. And he couldn’t even think about how crushed he would be should he fall short of their aspirations; most especially Gwen’s.

Simply thinkinng of the snow-sheathed ivoria started his wintery heart a rhythm he still wasn’t used to. He loved her- he loved her so much that it physically hurt him if he strayed from her for too long. It was an addiction, the most blasphemous sin against his prior livelihood of hunting down and killing others , of remaining incognito under a completely unrelated alias, of even being inducted into athe Nightmares, period. But the Assassin trusted her. And what kept him from turning back to a heartless life of paid murder was her trust in him. 

While his thoughts trailed off, he let them. He felt them ravel into a complex ball that he could nearly sense curl up just under his ribs. But it didn’t hurt. Cry had always shouldered responsibility when he needed to, and his steps had never faltered under the weight. This was good, he thought. He was reflecting and as Phex had brought to his attention, it helped him open up to himself more. She really was wise despite her age, it seemed.

A deep breath quelled the majority of the hearty feelings and feelings and silenced the most loudest of thoughts. And as he took that breath, he hid his icy irises from the whitened world. But when the artic timber mix opened them, he was actually becoming more aware of where he placed himself. And he had no idea where that even was. But in the distance, another wolf loomed. A carefree gait by a woody pelted male, one whom he caught the pale gaze of. He was atleast a yard from the fellow, and casually Cry barked a hello to the handsome lupine.

”No.” It was abrupt, but not hostile. Simply a decline of possibility. Well, unless this fellow was apt to joining The Keep, but Cry wasn’t going to just offer his home to another that he had only just met. This male could have a home for all he knew, and he wasn’t going to take the chance of sticking his neck out there and instructing the man where to cut.

“Actually,” he changed his mind on a whim, his eyes taking up less frigid crystal and something more playful, a slit of mischief glimmering in those winter jewels. “You can, if you’re up to it,” a grin slashed across a dark border of lips, his banner lifting to accent his interest in this new possible happening. “A spar”, he clarified. Nothing to win, nothing to lose. 

Cry had no pride, as it was misplaced in a calculated killer’s mind. It would plague and chip at you until you thought yourself above all, but the Void would claim its’ due, should you provoke it.

Cry recalled how he had sparred with Raziel, and instantly he missed the Roman and their midnight jousts. He was younger then, on his feet, nimble, ready, but the Roman has taught him quite a few more tricks.

Would this new wolf care to be his play toy for a bit? 

Courtesy was something Cry hadn’t expected right off the bat- usually when a fight was posed to another male, the male whom was offered got first move...Cry was regardlessly surprised.

Testing the limits of these fresh dipping waters, the Assassin tried to unloosen his muscles and get himself into an amped up mindset. Adrenaline hadn’t begun yet, but it would come, and he would need it to overpower this opposing brute. But patience. He needed to be the epitome of calm if he wanted to get back in his fighter mentality.
So testing, it was.

His muscles now getting more into the grove with a light pace, the Dark Guardian threw a swift jab forward to the timber cloaked brute, his shadowy body flooding across the cold ground like liquid night. But his power was not behind the blow; he did nothing more than a light jab to the male’s right shoulder. It would help his opponent get in into the groove, as well as him. To get moving, to get focused!

The snow-gazer wasn't swift - but he was solid. This heft of it was pure in it's defense, and at the jab Cry had sent forth, it was almost comical how nonexistent it impacted the russet cream. It was merely a raindrop atop an ocean of muscle, and this did Cry a bamboozle. He hadn't seen such capable muscles since Slade, and while he was too busy being impressed, the snow-gazer sent a deft chomp to his own shoulder. It was a hearty blow, and one that woke the Phantom up. That was all it took, and while he scolded himself for his prior negligence, the ebonian used his irritation to build himself up. But as everything in his life, it was contained. his mind went to work on how to take this foe down, the webbed gears grinding themselves back to life. It was clear he was nothing but muscle, and should Cry get bogged down by the heavy blows, he would surely lose this spar. But should be be able to launch attacks from a distance, he can make himself the better in this instance. 

With a sly gleam in his eye, Cry darted swiftly to the right, using the momentum from the blow his opponent had thrown into him. Stopping on a dime, he threw himself forward in a low crouch, and locked onto a flank, giving a nip and a tug, before releasing and leaping back to trace the spar circle.