the snow crunched under jora’s paws as she circled, muscles coiled. from one spar to the next—from faust to blackfell. across from her, her twin brother stood just as poised, just as unrelenting.
they had fought before—countless times, in training and in earnest—but no matter how many battles they waged, she never took him lightly.
a slow exhale curled in the air between them. then, without warning, she lunged, swift as a loosed arrow, aiming low to unbalance him. no words, no hesitation. he would know what this was.
March 13, 2025, 02:45 AM
blackfell does not falter. he never does.
jora moves fast, the way she always has—like shadow, like wind through the crags—but he is ready.
when she lunges low, he meets her. not by evading, not by yielding, but by bracing.
his stance locks, muscles tensing, and when she crashes into him, he gives—just enough, just barely—before twisting sharply, aiming to hook his foreleg around her shoulder, to drag her with him in a brutal, unrelenting counter.
pushing the brunt of his weight upon her.
jora moves fast, the way she always has—like shadow, like wind through the crags—but he is ready.
when she lunges low, he meets her. not by evading, not by yielding, but by bracing.
his stance locks, muscles tensing, and when she crashes into him, he gives—just enough, just barely—before twisting sharply, aiming to hook his foreleg around her shoulder, to drag her with him in a brutal, unrelenting counter.
pushing the brunt of his weight upon her.
— “norse“ ·
common
March 19, 2025, 02:15 PM
he let her in only to seize control the moment she struck. he was always like this—unyielding, calculating, meeting force with something sharper. clever man.
her hind legs kicked against the ice, driving them both sideways as she sought to roll free, to slip from his grasp like water through cracks in stone.
she bared her teeth, breath sharp with exertion. “slower than i remember,” she taunted, even as she fought to wrench herself loose.
her hind legs kicked against the ice, driving them both sideways as she sought to roll free, to slip from his grasp like water through cracks in stone.
she bared her teeth, breath sharp with exertion. “slower than i remember,” she taunted, even as she fought to wrench herself loose.
March 19, 2025, 10:32 PM
blackfell snarls, a rough, guttural sound, grip tightening as she kicks against the ice. he feels the shift, the force behind her struggle, the way she moves to slip free.
clever girl. but he is stronger. sharper.
her taunt draws a short, sharp laugh—low, amused.
with a sudden, brute force, he jerks sideways, using her own momentum against her. weight drives down, aiming to pin her, to remind her who she is fighting. breath hot, wild, teeth flashing close.
clever girl. but he is stronger. sharper.
her taunt draws a short, sharp laugh—low, amused.
or you’re weaker.
with a sudden, brute force, he jerks sideways, using her own momentum against her. weight drives down, aiming to pin her, to remind her who she is fighting. breath hot, wild, teeth flashing close.
— “norse“ ·
common
March 20, 2025, 09:09 PM
jora barely had time to brace before the ice bit cold against her back, blackfell’s weight pressing down, relentless. he was strong, but she had never let that stop her before.
her breath came sharp, curling between them like smoke. “not weak,” she bit out, muscles coiling beneath him, resisting. “just smarter.”
and then she moved—a sudden, violent twist, paws bracing against his chest. she didn’t need to overpower him, just unseat him. she shoved him hard, aiming to throw him off, to steal control back for herself.
her breath came sharp, curling between them like smoke. “not weak,” she bit out, muscles coiling beneath him, resisting. “just smarter.”
and then she moved—a sudden, violent twist, paws bracing against his chest. she didn’t need to overpower him, just unseat him. she shoved him hard, aiming to throw him off, to steal control back for herself.
March 25, 2025, 01:47 AM
blackfell growls, low and deep, as her paws shove into his chest. his body shifts under the force—off-balance, but not undone.
his weight lifts, but only to shift. he rolls with her momentum instead of resisting it, letting her movement carry him—then hooks a foreleg tight around her shoulder, dragging her down with him.
snow sprays, cold bites, but his grip is iron.
smarter?he huffs, sharp, dry.
then why are you under me, sister?
his weight lifts, but only to shift. he rolls with her momentum instead of resisting it, letting her movement carry him—then hooks a foreleg tight around her shoulder, dragging her down with him.
snow sprays, cold bites, but his grip is iron.
you always forget—i learn.his breath fans against her ear, hot and clipped.
try again.
— “norse“ ·
common
April 02, 2025, 12:12 PM
jora grunts as she’s dragged down, her teeth bared in a sneer, sharp yellow eyes flashing with annoyance and respect alike.
her muscles coil again, but this time, there’s no panic—just the quiet focus of a woman who thrives in the struggle. she shifts beneath him, searching for the smallest opening, the slightest shift in his grip. the game wasn’t over yet.
you learn,she spits, voice low and laced with challenge,
but you forget i learn faster.
her muscles coil again, but this time, there’s no panic—just the quiet focus of a woman who thrives in the struggle. she shifts beneath him, searching for the smallest opening, the slightest shift in his grip. the game wasn’t over yet.
don’t get comfortable,she warns, her tone thick with determination.
i’m not done.
April 13, 2025, 09:38 PM
—
yield.
he snarls it as he slams her to the earth. his weight drives the breath from her lungs. hot blood runs from a split in his brow, dripping onto her cheek. his chest heaves. his fangs flash.
yield, damn you.
his claws dig into the earth on either side of her skull, caging her in. she struggles, still, stubborn, wild-eyed—but her limbs are shaking. spent.
say it.
his muzzle is close to hers, voice a low growl, ragged from effort and fury and something else—some savage joy that she lasted this long.
her response comes in the inevitable, begrudging relent. a victory that is sweet and well-earned, against a woman of his same creation.
— “norse“ ·
common
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