The boy talks up a brief summarization of how he recived the marks when defending a freind of his. It was an admirable feat, one that Āzon couldn't help but chuff a smile at, but an enviable one all the same. To have a trait in which defending those you loved came first was something the brute was once too deep in his father's conquerous mind set to understand — but now that Judal was gone, confusion was no more. If only he'd stayed by his side, even if it meant dragging his brother away in order to save his life, then maybe he didn't have to enter the Teekon's alone...

As if Āzoniol wasn't already stuck in an uncomfortable moment of time, his lake side companion soon shifted the conversation and brought up his own scars. An almost horrified look appeared on Āzon's face at the mention, turning his head left and right to look at himself and realize that the rainfall from above had revealed the very thing which haunted him. The majority of these scars — as much as Āzon wished for them to be ones earned in battle, were not. Instead, they were simply reminders of his father's untamed rage towards any form of disobedience from his children. Though that was not a tale he wished to tell. A simple: "Yes, lots of fighting..." was all that was mustered while shifting his gaze away uncomfortably.

Several seconds of deathly silence later and the white sire would stand back to his feet, turning back to face the yearling. "Sounds to me like you're tougher than you look kid. How about a spar? Just you and me." There we go; a quick attempt to change the subject. Hopefully an effective one too...

Āzon's diversion from what would've been an akward conversation had worked, and a sigh of relief left his lungs — soon followed by a fiery, competative grin. The boy before him was quick to get into position and an amused chuff escaped his lips at the vulguar remark. "Now THATS more like it..."

The large brute got into a fighting stance himself, lowering his shoulders and tracing his hind legs backwards in the dampaned earth. "I may be a lil' skinny, but don't go easy on me, ya hear?" his current condition might slow him down against an opponent that was in much better shape than him, that was for sure, but practice would help him gain back some muscle (and hopefully improve his rusty movements).

His odd-colored optics observed the boy from a distance, looking for a target area before bounding towards his form with an open maw. The right shoulder was Āzon's choice of aim and he'd grab it in his jaws while pushing forward, attempting to push Bronco off balance a little. The grip was not hard enough to cause pain, but just enough to keep a hold on him. All he'd need to do now is find a way to shake Āzon off...

Rather than finding a way out of the confrontation, the whiskey-eyed yearling headed straight toward it — to Azon's surprise. A puff of air was forcibly pushed from his lungs by the collision and caused the brute's hind legs to skid backward in the mud. Even if the yearling wasn't as leggy as Azon, he still packed immense muscular strength (which was much more impactful because of Azon's current weight loss). Such subtle power was something you'd be more likely to see in an individual with previous training experience, rather than naturally occurring — it made the pale Pheonix wonder just how much training his sparring companion endured for his age — an impressive feat. Though he had much to learn anything about them in general.

Another surprise up ahead — the crane of Bronco's neck underneath him. The movements happened so fast that it would've been difficult to process. "Shit-" when the boy moved, the skin on his shoulder tented with the grip Azoniol had around it. Worried that he might've been pulling too hard and threatening to tear something, his grip loosened a bit. Yet as fast as he could separate his teeth, the impact of a blunt force on his lower jaw made Azon's head shoot backward. 

The connection of heads caused the prince to stumble back and lick his lips — the metallic taste of blood seething from the tongue he just bit. Though this small injury was nothing more than a scratch to Azon. He did tell this boy not to go easy on him, and he was satisfied with the result. So in turn, the white brute rammed towards him once more — this time trying to test his own strength rather than jaw power. His head lowered and rammed hard into Bronco's left side in an attempt to alter his balance.

In a strange twist of "what the fuck just happened-holy shit im falling" events, Āzon felt his body quickly descend to the mud as Bronco managed to swerve around the brute and pull a leg from underneath him; talk about anticlimactic. Just when Ignis thought he had the upper hand this time, it couldn't change the fact that his opponent was sharper than a hawk. Another suprise pulled from Bronco's sleeve -- and another smile appearing on Āzon's face; sparring with a strong opponent proved to be rather enjoyable. Something Ignis never thought of before.

Fuck -- that did not land the cheek.

What was meant to hit the side of his face instead hit Bronco directly in the face, causing saliva to fly out his muzzle. Āzon turned to peer apologetically at the yearling, trying to check if he was okay, but soon shook his head to snap out of it. This was a spar after all -- stopping now to pity him would basically be an insult to his opponent. Bronco definitely wasn't weak, so there was no need to treat him as such. 'Stop being a mushy dumbass, Ignis. Kid's doin' fine.'

Just as the pheonix was about to find his balance again and lift his torso off the ground, something heavy planted itself ontop of him. More specifically, Bronco, had planted himself ontop of him. Āzon let out a gasp as he felt his lungs straining themselves against the pressure -- and now instead of standing up, his face was in the mud again. Why didn't he see that coming in the first place? The yearling clearly had the advantage when Ignis took too long getting up.

"Urghhhh, shit. Alright kid, you win..." he strained with a series of soft coughs -- which slowly morphed into hysterical laughter.  "Now get th'hell off of me already. Ya probably weigh more than that deer you were eatin'."

"Y'never quit, don't'cha kid?" The prince grumbled with a snicker, slowly lifting himself off the ground as Bronco's weight shifted off of him. Even now after their spar, the whiskey-eyed boy still insisted that they shared the carcass. No backing out of it when he seemed this persistent on the matter, huh? Ignis would be stupid if he said he wasn't hungry afterall.

There was something about the young lad that struck Āzon as being more soft than he actually appeared. It certainly wasn't a bad thing though -- in fact, Āzon kinda liked that about him. When the yearling bumped the side of his shoulder, the corner of Āzon's lips curved into a mischievous grin as he put one paw around Bronco's shoulder and used the other to vigorously rub the top of his head. He was still a lil' shit in Ignis' eyes, but the Phoenix could tell he had a big heart to make up for it. "Weeeeell, can't say I didn't enjoy myself either. Haven't sparred like that since....." since back at home with Judal.... "--forever..."