Wapun Meadow i saw a bulbasuar but it might have been lettuce

AW but @Xan show urself

Aurëwen lingered briefly before she left the shelter of silver birches, for a last glimpse of late sunlight shafting through the spring leaves. The light scattered itself in mute glints of silver and gold, and the intricate shadows of the branches danced with the gleams upon soft grasses. For a moment, she thought the birches might speak to her; and they seemed to rustle a little forlornly, as if in farewell.

But her pursuit of celandine drew her away, regardless of whether or not they had enough stocked back in Diasporian wares. All around her the earth was lush with early summer, and Aure traipsed from the foothills and into the meadow at a hitchy, insistent gait.

She told herself that celandine was the only reason she’d come here this early evening; that it wasn’t to feel the waning vestiges of her family’s presence — of his presence. Then again, what else was she to do with this restlessness within her? Ever since she’d spoken to Rhælla and that intermittent scrap with Blodreina, a quiversome incitement had taken hold of her. 

If I want to hold my own, then I must improve. Her musings were agitated as she nosed distractedly through patches of flora; and she had half a mind to tussle a damn fox if it happened across her—

poor bulbasaur, being called out like that smh

The coast had offered him little more than hurt pride, the eagerness that once controlled him beaten down by fear.

Fear.

It wasn’t something he was familiar with experiencing. Alexander had, long ago, sworn off the emotion and any display of it; to show fear was to show weakness, and to show weakness left him vulnerable. Driven to separate himself by that fear alone, to preserve what image he’d made for himself (not knowing that the image was far different from what he imagined it to be), he ventured off on his own. And the farther he travelled, the more familiar things started to appear; he was returned to the region that housed his origin story, the place where things have continuously, throughout the years, began and ended in the same breath.

With the passing of the seasons that meadow came to life with colour. Had he not traversed the area throughout various points in his life, the numerous hues likely would have made the territory unrecognisable, but such was not the case. The moment he stepped foot into the territory, he was overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all—of knowing that he was nearly home. And so it was not a mere fox that crossed the female’s path that day, but the albino.

And he greeted her with a glare, so typically placed there in his eyes, directed her way. For how dare she, a stranger to the land (as far as he was concerned), cross into an area that he considered part of his own—part of him, even, perhaps.

Lo and behold — not a fox, but an albino, indeed. Swathed in creams, the argent of her eyes met the sapphire-limned rubies of his; and had there been no scowl upon his face, the silver might’ve found him a pleasant study. Aure held his gaze, found her own narrowing incrementally, and rose to her paws to face him square on— and started.

​For the first time in all the time she’d been here, before her stood a male who wasn’t gargantuan! Well, he still had a few good slivers above her— well, middling, basically, but this height was perfect! He wasn’t hulking! Her delight was evident in the giddiness that wriggled throughout her boney body; in the smothered smile on scarred lips. “Tu ești perfecțiunea. I am Aure.”

As far as mannerisms went, well, they went out her head. She bathed in that ignorance, tail afeather with anxiety at what might come. “How good of a fighter are you? What is your name?” Her marred head canted low, then, ruff shivering out with unbidden anticipation.

Alexander had grown accustomed to ridding his sight of strangers with a simple glare and a few coarse words. Yet, the woman did not falter under his gaze, much to his displeasure. Rather, she spoke in some foreign tongue—is this how others feel when he speaks the northern language?—and then introduced herself. The wriggling of her form and the smile that adorned her marred face broght a scowl to his, lips curling back with disgust. What did she hope to gain from exchanging names, and why did she not leave immediately after seeing him? Why did people so often seek to bother him?

More words, only her voice shifted to create questions. His scowl deepened and body stiffened. “The best,” was his reply, tone sharp. His eyes drifted up and down her body, assessing, before he said: “But I doubt it’s hard to be better than you.” He ignored her question regarding his name entirely, deciding it wasn’t important. Whether she knew who he was or not didn’t matter, not when he had no intentions of ever seeing her again.

So he was a fighter, then? A warrior, perhaps? Warlord? The more he spoke, the more she stilled to listen to him; Aure doubted very much that the compliment he paid her was no praise at all, and instead she lifted her chin, only to tuck it in a bit of a sheepish manner. “Actually, no. I have trained amongst Drageda, but, ah, I haven’t had any proper... what is ze word? Mentoring. Thus, I am terrible.”

There was no shame in her voice at this — it was true, and she had nothing to hide. “I want to become better, you see? I simply do not know how.” The ivory she-wolf whet her lips, in some manner of demure determination. But she soon straightened up, drawing to her full height (what height?) and looked into the albino’s face with keen earnest. “May you teach me some things? Help me?”

For all of her brazen enquiries, it never once occurred to her that this male might’ve ran with Drageda himself, once. The only thing that was at the forefront of her mind was learning something in the least; so she wasn’t harrying Reina all the time, a bit soured as she felt towards Ingram.

Drageda.

Of all she said, that name stood out at the forefront of it all. He remembered the name, the place that claimed the life of his dear friend. The place that he could never return to, not even to reclaim her bones. Unbeknownst to him, his lips curled back to reveal his eye teeth, a snarl working its way up through his throat. “Drageda?” he questioned, body more rigid than ever. Boldly, he took a step towards her, tail lashing. “You and those coast wolves have no business being here. Go away now.” To better translate his frustrations, the male let his jaw fall slack for the sole purpose of then snapping his jaws in her direction, his favourite threat to deliver.

“I don’t help anyone, and definitely not your kind,” he declared. They were murderers, after all. Indirectly, at best, though he saw it differently. Had Kendra never discovered them, perhaps she would still be alive today. And had she never died, well... maybe then he wouldn’t feel the way he does, or had done the things he did and ruined himself at the same time.

“We are coastal no more. Those that of us who remain have every right to be here.”

Her voice had softened into something low, stony, and her plush ears bedded back into her wisping ruff. “Though, being natrona, I suspect we aren’t even to be considered kru anymore.” The even gaze took in that snarl, that stept towards her; and though Aurëwen’s body anchored her weight away, she didn’t retrace her pawprints one bit. “I do not know what of Drageda plagues you, for I simply ran with them in ze late winter.”

​”As far as my kind goes, you near ze lands of Diaspora.” Her sculpted head rose above scrawny shoulders, tone without haughtiness, but certainly cautioning whatever he chose to do next. She willed her hackles to not rise; all the same, though, these next few moments would only tell whether she would push her reluctant rank or no.

Coastal no more. Then... was Drageda as a whole no more? Was the land free to walk again, could he bring his friend home? No, no—he would not return to the coast, not now nor ever again, lest times turn desperate. Kendra had made friends there, she had found a way to fit in where he was never meant to be. Perhaps she was meant to live there, to die there, and it was his duty to allow her soul to remain there. Why open his own old wounds when she, he hoped, was happy at last?

Whatever may have become of the pack, the woman was with them no longer. She had, like him, resided with them only momentarily. So, while he would not hold that against her (for now), he did take offense to her claim. “Diaspora? Never heard of it,” he stated. “But...”—his own head rose, as did his hackles and tail, the latter arching stiffly over his back—“I do know that you’re near my home, the valley, which has existed long before whatever the fuck you’re talking about.” Another step was taken towards her, lips curled back and teeth on full display. The muscles in his body tensed, ready to spring into action at any moment, though he held back; Alexander was quick to anger but he was not brutal, so he offered her a chance to admit mistake and obey.

Heavens.

Finally, she let her own tail flare above boney hips; her ears press back further; the notch of her own snarl to set itself into her ruby-strung muscle. Fangs flashed as she uttered, “It does not matter which domain existed first. Diaspora rests beyond ze foothills behind me, and you are speaking to one of its leaders.” Her ruff shivered to life once more as she spoke; frivoling out about her marred façade.

”My companions would not be so lenient in this situation, you know.” Had she been as fearsome as Mahler or Stigmata, she would’ve set upon this male and wrest him into submission. Alas, she was not.

“If ze valley beyond is your home as you claim, then I will respect that. I have come to harvest, however, and will not be kept from that.” Aure canted her scarred chin at him, then, posture stock-still, defiant, and defensive. There was a wary heft to her boney figure, but she considered the male before her all the same.

Spar thread here: click me!
Roll: 9 (miss) — Hits: 0/5

The revelation did not make his actions cease; Alexander was not the type to give a damn about the standings of others. He thought of himself as being above all those around him, and often acted with that belief fueling him. “Do you think I care what your place is?” he asked, a clear rhetorical. “I couldn’t care less. We aren’t on your land, your pack isn’t with you, so whatever you are to them doesn’t matter to me.” And why should it?

“Are your companions here?” The male glanced one way and then the other, as if looking for someone. “No? Their lack of leniency doesn’t matter.” Unless they suddenly appeared out of nowhere with torches and pitchforks grasped in their jaws, Xan couldn’t care less about what they would or would not allow. Hell, even if they were there, there was little evidence to suggest that he’d give a damn even then.

She tried to continue as she was but, now, the albino was no longer willing. “I was going to let you stay, I only wanted you out of my sight,” he announced, somewhat absentmindedly. “But now? I want you gone and you’re going to leave.” The shift that followed was as swift as a a star whilst falling, and his actions mimicked just that; with little to no warning, Alexander lurched forward, intending to ram his body against her own.

Belatedly, she realized his ludicrous tongue and haughty words: he should’ve kept to his valley, and lord over it as he pleased. But, no — he charged her in the next instant, a pale battering ram, and the sorely inexperienced she-wolf scrambled to evade him.

It’d only been her slightness which saved her, and she veered away and alongside his bulky self. Then, Aure dove, needlsome fangs glinting for the pale joint of his wrist — and schnik’d shut on empty air in its place.

rolled  7
hits landed  0/5
summary  dodges & dives for an ankle (miss)

Rolled a miss. 0/5 hits lmao

Barreling forward as recklessly as he had resulted in zilch. Slowing, he tried to turn himself back around to redirect hid attack, hearing the sound of jaws snapping together as he did so. He stole a glance at the woman—briefly, lasting just long enough to determine his next move—then lunged again, this time intending to snap his jaws down onto her ear.

1/5 hits. sis should’ve dodged probably but lmao x2
summary headbutt to throat/chin area, tries to throw him back

She felt more than saw the albino’s weight plunge for her; felt more than heard his fangs clutch at the air near her ear.

As snapping for his ankles would prove to be futile for now, Aure surged into the next option — already low and hunched into her hocks, she drove as much weight as she could up up up.

In half a blink, the sculpture of her cranium met the square underside of the albino’s throat; though she couldn’t toss him with brawn, she might as well try to make him gag enough to get away from her. (She was certainly boney enough.)

another miss yikes

His teeth managed to snag naught but air, clacking together audibly. Intending to try to grab ahold of any part of her he could reach, he soon realised that the downfall of his head only added to the impact of her own against his throat. Immediately, Alexander lurched back, spluttering and coughing, trying to catch his breath. Struggling to recollect himself, he did not rush towards her this time, waiting instead until she advanced again to make his next move.

2/5 hits vroom vroom
summary intends to keep driving him back w/ her weight in full motion

Aure, on the contrary, had no intention of waiting — not when she’d only just begun to drive him backwards. So as he coughed up spittle, mustering her wits through the ache in her skull, she’d flit after him by the time his eyes even opened; was sailing up before him once more —

She was simultaneously snapping at his face; slamming a crude, crude shoulder into his open chest. Her vision had darkened as adrenaline and drive thrummed through her veins; coming out as a nasty snarl.

another miss yikes times a thousand. 0/5 hits

Although small, the momentum behind her macilent form created a force to be reckoned with. With the addition of every jagged angle of her body jabbing into his own, he did little to resist her attempts. He braced himself as best he could, moving with her; the impact against his chest knocked the wind out of him. In an attempt to at least challenge her assault, Xan snapped aimlessly in her direction, intending to use her own strategy against her and drive the woman away from him.

3/5 hits MAMA DONT PLAY

This would be the last time she’d follow through with this wave-like pattern, and so Aure dove a third time (albeit a bit awkwardly as he snapped towards her). She let her shoulder drop further, swerving beneath his chin, and rising became a different matter as Xan’s advance continued:

She crescented her body as she rose, reaching; maw gaping, fangs gleaming — and they pierced through the flesh of his right cheek like ivory briars. Tasted fur, some blood, and felt the skin resisting against her; but Aure only gave a low, breathy laugh of daring abandon. Have you.

my boy got a HIT. 1/5

The laugh fell on deaf ears as he felt the searing pain of teeth in flesh across his cheek. Alexander snarled, furious now, but at what exactly it was unclear—her or himself. Parting his jaws, he shoved forward and turned his head, intending to clamp onto the side of her neck, behind an ear. On his own face, he felt his fur wetting with blood, a mess to later be cleaned.

4/5 hits  L E T S G O O O O O O O OOCO OCOO O O O

The shit-eating grin of the particular males in her life never left her maw — not even when he wrangled himself from her, had her jostled, and attempted to embed his fangs behind the bulb of her ear. And, oh, she let him; felt the starting sting of his pearly whites into wiry muscle.

Let him, before she curved the arc of her neck — throat bared for an inattentive half-second — before whirling her head to greet him. Beneath his jaw went a ‘fwip’ of her snout to knock his face from hers.

Viperous, seething, Aurëwen surged upon him; seeking to embed her fangs into his snout this time. Should she succeed, she would flick her fine head in wild wrenches in an attempt to cast him asunder to the earth.

ding ding gotta hit. 2/5

There was an audible clack when her muzzle collided with the underside of his jaw, teeth rattling. Before he could react, her teeth were embedded in his own muzzle with active pressure applied. Using his weight against her, Alexander rose and shook his head vigorously, gritting his teeth through the sting of her bite as he tried to shake her off and throw her to the ground.

5/5– im??

The whipping of his own skull rattled her, but she held strong and steady. When one tosses their head so violently, there is certain to be a lapse no longer than a pulse-beat — and when it came, the she-wolf was ready. As Xan wrested against her, she released his muzzle with a vigorous flick of her own head; the silver swept upon him, then, with a rise and rear before his recovering self.

The next few heart-thrums were a fleet and chaotic blur — but the albino was beneath her, and her tail was brandished above boney hips once more. “Yu gonplei ste odon,” came the ragged breaths of her liltingly-worn voice. 

Victory soared through her veins, gleamed with the everlasting exhaustion that came with it. For what might just be first time in her life, nobody had come to her rescue against her assailant — only herself.

Entirely of her own accord, exactly as she’d wished for.

Adrenaline still crowded dark at the edges of her good eye, but Aurëwen finally removed herself from atop the alabaster wanderer. “Thank you, desăvârşire, for this lesson,” she simpered, head lowing; figure disheveled, undoubtedly tuckered-out, “I will never forget it.”

WHAT A TWIST

What came next was a blur—

One moment, he felt himself to be on the road to victory, then the next he was on the ground—beneath the woman. She said something he didn’t understand, although the words were vaguely familiar and tugged at fading memories, and kept her tail held high. Alexander, ashamed by the outcome of the battle, could do little more than snarl. How had she come out, quite literally, on top? Was he that out of practise, that weighed down, that he could no longer best a wolf, even as spindly as this?

As soon as she removed herself, Alexander was up and taking several steps back, putting space between them. His body never relaxed and the snarl that twisted his face into something unrecognisable never left, either. “Fuck off,” he spat in response to her thanks. “Next time, I’ll tear out your throat.” An empty threat, really; he had no intention of ever meeting her again, after all. Without so much as another breath loosed in her direction, the albino turned and took his leave, still simmering, blood boiling.