Moonspear and breathe in time [m]

edit - mature implications later!

With a new element upon her, and wholly unmistakable now in its next dawning days, she was keeping to her own interests strictly. It made her patience for anything else brutally thin already. Disgustingly, appallingly anxious and reeking of the distinct headiness of season didn't suit someone as secretive as she.

In some of her wild hazy considerations, she had the notion to steal Charon away to higher in the slopes and just stay there. Her interest in company lacked terribly, and she was far less attentive to her typical duties anyway, let alone socializing. In truth, she preferred to stay away from much of the pack, who need not be concerned with her or any distractions she might pose (to a pack with male dominated numbers especially); another reason she didn't.. care for this much. Anyway, it would be (will be?) more of their concern if she's able to take this towards the next step -- a series of events that ride a lot of her success exclusively, because without her, there will be none of this here. So she's justifying her selfishness that way.

Better sense (and a lingering soreness from the fiasco with the rams and lightning) kept her in flux between there and the middle grounds still.. since it was early and she still had to eat -- as much as she'd rather not take issue with that right now with, ah, other concerns. The hunting was meager on its best days and relying wholly on caches was greedier than she needed to be right now. Fishing remained her best option, and at least it was what she was used to eating. 

She lounged in the warm sun on a soft swatch of young grass, fur soaking wet and a fish at her paws. She ate slowly, only barely paying attention to the meal at all. In time, she'd be pressured back into motion. For now, she attempted to restore and conserve.

Cackles maniacally.

He could sense her as soon as she was upon the mountain again. The air had been thick with the scent of blood, and he had been lured away from the border's edge as the party of wolves retreated up the cliffside. It was known to him then, and in the ensuing hours, that a great battle had been fought. That there were injuries. It pained Lazarus in some way, thinking he had not been there to aid them — but it was this mountain that he coveted as much as the woman who ruled it, not the pack itself. He cared little for the beasts that dragged their sorry selves across the threshold. He cared entirely, intimately, obsessively, for the dark woman alone. While they had been busy fighting for the chance to take down a set of rams, Lazarus had been hard at work too. The scents upon the land were more thoroughly his now. He had marked over nearly every indication of Charon or Floki or anyone who wasn't himself, leaving only the twin scents of Amekaze and him to greet those that sought the great Spear.

The blood in the air would dwindle, though. As the wolves tended to their wounded. In this weakened state, Lazarus believed he held some sort of advantage; he was hungry but fit, and his many desires could soon be realized if he played this next stage correctly. A part of him thought to find Charon and take from him his precious crown; he was in a desperate state indeed. Floki could not defend him, and the others, they were all suffering. Yet as he scoured the mountainside his thoughts drifted from the menfolk to the singular woman of importance — always, he would think of her, desire her. The scent of blood waned, and as a new aroma filled the gaps between the newly budding trees, he found himself grinning through the dark of it.

The scent, whatever it was, pulled him forward like a great white shark.

As he came upon her, sheltered by the trees and aided by the shifting wind, he was a ghost drawn towards her sleeping figure. In moments he would realize that she was not at all sleeping, but laying, as if in wait. Waiting for me, he presumed, as if there was some great and holy connection between the two of them. He felt it. Surely she did — or she would, as he made his precipitous advance upon her. From the shadows did he creep, and he lingered just out of reach, watching and waiting. Lazarus was so engrossed by this point that he hardly noticed the wind turning upon his will — his scent, therefore, was pulled towards Amekaze and would give up his position soon enough. But it mattered little. He was so close.

Idly, she peeled at the fish. Everything still tasted too strangely metallic and she persevered long enough to pick away until there was nothing worthwhile left. She next settled on watching the nearby water, working towards the motivation to slake her thirst proper and get the taste out of her mouth best she could. But, the ache that she remembered in these peaceful moments held fast to her, pulling back her ears and keeping her rooted as she eyed right forelimb angrily. In the days since the hunt, her bruises had only darkened and caught in such a strange flux of so many things, it was becoming frustrating to only be aware of more as time passed.

She huffed, and halfway into preparing to get to her feet, she scented him on the breeze. An ear swivel followed, paired alongside a few more thoughtful sniffs to pinpoint her suspicions. This eased her elbows back to the warm grass so she may re-strategize, and adjust for his eyes on her as she knew they would be, since he did not seem to be immediately closing all of the distance just yet. She didn't want him to see her lurching into an awkward hobble on tender paws and a stiff leg -- a very perceivable weakness, and one she was not taking to kindly despite the subtleties. But she still had to get up and do something about the horrid dryness in her mouth, with or without Lazarus looming nearby.

Now prepared to hide her grimace in full, she arose and moved forward to the tiny creek for a quick drink. She lingered there, keeping mostly still with her jaw dripping, and listened carefully to scope out his next move. Meanwhile, she willed the dizzying warmth out of her head.

Her every move was made of grace; pure grace. He watched as she stripped the flesh from the fish - this tiny creature, now dead, which she attended to with such delicate precision. He wished to have such careful and considerate attention from her as well. Perhaps not so bloody, but he was not afraid of pain. He would endure all manner of things for her. She did not move to look at him as he, sifting closer through the dark, noticed the tiny hints that yes, yes - her attention was upon him, at last.

Every inch of movement he made, and every adjustment of her own body, made him thoroughly aware of her condition. At least, to a point. He knew there was a heat in the air, a great pull inside of his body - a burning in his blood - but was unaware to the cause. It didn't matter why her body called to him. It did, and the beast, driven by instinct and trusting himself wholly, believed that she wanted him all the same. Why else would she be calling to him? Why else would her body be pulling at every inch of him? His skin crawled.

He was behind her. Watching the darkness of her hips and the subtle beat of her lungs as they pulsed with her breath. Lazarus lingered out of her view and breathed - simply breathed - and then, in a moment of forthright desire, thrust his nose towards her limp tail with the urge to push it aside and bask in the allure of her scent. His physical reaction was immediate and impossible to hide; but he did not need to hide it. She wanted him, or so he believed. She was calling for him.

She glanced left, then right, and a deeper understanding crept slowly but surely. He approached from behind, so she was a bit tense initially by nature of that, and prickled just some with general wariness. It felt good, too, to let the fresh air run more freely through her still damp fur even if it was still so humid out.  She never bothered to temper the reaction. Her skin was too hot and she was left feeling the drive for shady seclusion already. The hottest hours of the day were fast approaching after all. Him, though.. She eyed him pointedly over her shoulder before arcing halfway to face him, not exactly decided how to handle this information of his being here yet.

Reflexively her tail curved upward into her natural stance, mainly because he was one curious aspect upon the hierarchy. He yielded to her alone, it seemed, and served the mountain without faltering. It never riled major concern in her personally but she was aware enough to not be blind to it all.. She found she could take solace in knowing he guarded the mountain as he did. It had certainly been one less thing to find concern over on their last hunt abroad.

She sniffed again and exhaled a low note that shifted naturally into a quiet growl -- towards and for herself, mostly. Hot, sore, anxious, and she knew the look she leveled him with didn't exactly speak of lengthy patience. Even the most subtle of movements permeated the air with her essence and as unbecoming as it was to her better sense, she still responded instinctively with an ill-placed glimmer of satisfaction for having lured him to her so wordlessly. He was distinctly male, after all, muskiness included and thus, appealing on a basal level to a heat-addled head -- even if he was not the one she held in her highest favor. Vague uneasiness trailed along too, though, intensified by everything she wished to hide. She swallowed thickly and slid into motion, this time, away for the nearest shade.

Hope this is OK! I can edit if its unclear or too much PP, I tried to leave it as open as possible.

She was a fine creature. Perfectly proportioned, firm with muscle, ripe - he knew it, and so did she. And when Amekaze rose up and drifted a single step from him, that initial step to fly to her haven in the dark, Lazarus could do only one thing. In his mind her actions were influenced by his presence, but not as flight - she was rising to meet him. Her body to his. And he could read her body well enough, look between the lines and know that she held her own desire. Yes.

He lunged before she could get too far from him, and in his zeal he was not so tender. When last they'd been together, they had danced. They had watched one another, studied the movement, the muscle, and now Lazarus was being tested. He knew what to do without thinking; his mind addled by her scent and by his own selfish wanting. His chest rose up and he draped one forelimb across her lower back, scooping with the paw, drawing her in to him as if in slow motion. In fact, he did this roughly. Yarding her with such force he would likely leave her bruised and battered. He hooked himself to her hip with that limb, and slammed the other adjacent, feeling the pockets where the famine had tried to hollow her out. Amekaze was strong.

As Lazarus pulled, as he desperately and eagerly attempted to position himself, he wondered if this was what conquering the mountain was supposed to feel like.

it's all good! i am also hopefully not too awkwardly vague

While her sights went forward, trailing ahead towards the cover of the nearest copse, she angled back an ear yet the information it lent her helped little. He was moving on her fast, suddenly, and while she was determined to sort through a hot haze. She bristled first and rest seemed unclear when he got to her, reflexive almost, as she felt her lips peeling back when her breath went shockingly sharp from the force applied.

Normally she knew she would weather this with far more grace, and while she compensated somewhat, it paled. In fact, the falter her body provided was more cause for frustration and clenching her teeth only half tempered the quiet hiss of a snarl she couldn't withhold. Ache had registered again somewhere along the way, and nearly, she felt like she could recall every unlucky step that had landed her right here -- from missed meals to even when they had finally found something truly worth hunting, the cost was monumental. The lightning, the resulting aftershocks, the majority of her pack injured.

She tried to go serpentine in his grip and snap her teeth for this lacked all of the preamble she preferred. He came from behind and with honed purpose so she clamped around open air most of all, though. His forelimb had hooked her hips with power and aching muscles down her back protested the motion as soon as she tried it -- all not allowing her to keep it for long, and making it difficult to make herself as hard to grab onto. Her motives shifted, towards a new approach and fleeting preservation as the full weight of these implications came upon her in a shuddering wave.

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: some unwanted sexing from here on out! be warned!

suddenly this is playing in my head, and the seriousness of the moment is ruined! Lemmie know if I should change anything.

There was no going back from this. Were he successful, Lazarus would be the master of the mountain - of her, of all of them - and he knew somewhere within his heat-fogged mind that it would not last. But that did not matter. He did not think, only reacted, succumbing to the most basal of instincts: the urge to reproduce. She was snared by him and fighting it, wriggling in his grasp like a great black mamba; each twist and twitch of her body aroused him, and before long Lazarus was rumbling a pleasant note from deep within his chest. He struggled against her will; his love of her said, this is what she wants. His immense desire parried, take her, take her, she is playing with you!

And, having finally climbed atop the mountain, Lazarus plunged forth, wedging his chest atop her hindquarters, her back, nearly reaching her shoulders, practically pinning her with his bear-like body. He was too large, so large that he had her forced upon the ground, but with some extra positioning - done hastily - he found his way inside. The rumbling became a purr. He licked the air, tasted her ink-dark fur as he nibbled hungrily upon the nape of her neck, and then gripped hard as the two of them connected. He did not just own the mountain — Lazarus had become one with it.

He was never too far behind in this period of Amekaze's, envious for the time anyone else were to spend with her and knowing he needed to protect her like a scavenger its prey, lest she be swooped by another. Yet the impact his fall from the lightning crash had caused was not to be underestimated; the right side of his face was sore and cut from the sheep's hoof and his head had been throbbing ever since. The act had taken much of his energy and since he had rested to get back his energy.

Yet when he had arisen she was gone and so he had gone to follow her. Charon's head throbbed as he followed Amekaze's scent along the mountainside, trotting leisurely while he tried to keep his strained muscles and his head from screaming out constantly. Little did he know what was going on at the end of his trail, or he might've had more haste in his step. She was probably out hunting, and she was probably fine; the only reason he truly went to look for her was some sort of primal instinct that made him want to be with her all the time, even though his throbbing head told him she was probably totally fine, anyway. Didn't matter if she was fine; mattered that she was his, and that was what drove him to find her, with no ominous feelings looming over him at all.

He continued to casually trot along the mountainside, following her trail and feeling desire burning inside, but not close enough to even yet smell someone else was present. Otherwise he might have hastened his pace more.

going on holiday this saturday, so feel free to skip me if that is more convenient since he ain't there yet anyway. i'm gonna try and get posts in during the holiday though (:

omg!! i didn't know i needed that LMAO

There had never been any denying that he was a large wolf. Sturdy, well-made, and hardened more by the mountain's exquisite crafting, she'd taken in her up-close looks to confirm all this not so long ago. Even famine-worn, he cut impressively. But with him draped over her and her suddenly aware of him in ways she'd not considered before, the perspective on that size evolved rapidly to lure forth a quiet, grating growl.

The ripples of his deep-chest rumbling ran up her back, and she arced reflexively with her ears pinning back in frustration while she willed opportunity to open her a pathway. She couldn't seem to stop him yet, couldn't slip away, and her efforts only wore her down and riled him up -- she understood, for even a sick, lascivious, instinctual satisfaction was pooling in her gut -- she hated the carnality of her seasonal flesh for doing so. This wasn't what she wanted, and wasn't how she meant it to be. She only hoped he understood what this could, and would, mean for him somewhere in his consumed head. Did he value the chance he had at this more than his own lifesblood? So it seemed.

Her lips stayed peeled back, and even pinned, she tried to pressure it back all she could with every ounce of strength she'd muster. Her muscles quivered, aching, screaming and she winced as she adjusted to him, their contact, and the unexpected toll it took on her aching back. Meanwhile, the motions deepened it all. She snapped to the left and right both again, and hissed again when she caught nothing. While held down, he was too close for her to reach and far too devoted to keeping that way with intentions like his. But, but, she schemed, even while her eyes fluttered and the edges of her sight blurred.

He would not relent. As she writhed beneath him, snapping and spiraling to try and grab at his nearest parts, he clutched her close, squeezed tightly around her hips and her middle, and let out a croon which grew louder as he breathed the note. Her voracity only egged him on further; Lazarus was inconsolable as his lust overtook his better judgement. He saw Amekaze not as a victim to it, but the catalyst; her spirit was inconquerable, and he knew this by the snapping of her teeth, the writhing of her shadow-clad body beneath him. Nothing could stop him — and thus he continued on, until the greatest of spasms overtook him, and their connected bodies were rooted as one. As this great wave of energy pulsed through him — in to her — they were united, and would remain tied until Lazarus' heavy body had become dulled in the afterglow of this monumentous act.

She couldn't stay stilled. Even when she eased back the fight, she quivered and prickled while his grip squeezed her tight. Anger, roiling low to collide with.. all this, this culminating motion she couldn't stop as he moved against her and her body responded in turn. She was just too aware of him -- every aspect, every feeling of him dug so deeply into her. It burned her throat and choked out her snarling gasps for breath. He gave her nowhere to go, and for all her efforts, he only gained his strength from her; dangerously so judging by his force. As soon as she was not trapped and feeling so smothered, she would retaliate. She had to, even in the wake of such consumption and failure. Somehow, if only she could still have the power to do it.

Amekaze's senses jarred, and in the next breath, he seemed even heavier. But so did she. Her legs shook and pain rippled, no, surged, as the gravity of it crashed viciously around her. She pulled until she winced then resigned to wait, his hold on her far too great there as well. His strength as a viable, effective male was painfully frustrating and on full display, where she had been unable to keep it at bay. The consequence of this act's purpose was less of her concern right now. She was more keen on what her next step would need to be to right this in her heart.

As soon as flesh gave her the slack she needed, she attempted to wilt away from his grip by letting her legs droop and the rest of her to follow. To do so felt good after such struggle and. No longer supporting the weight was a welcome change but she gave herself no time to enjoy it; she twisted, groaned, and gathered herself all she could. Channeling her energy, every last shred of it she could muster in her aching muscles, she was determined to take advantage of his post-coital bliss. She lunged her teeth for his pale chest without another sound. A shame, truly, especially since she doubted the force she could bring right now when all she wanted was to go slack and let the world turn on without her for a moment.

His journey pressed him forward, trotting slowly while his stomach swam at the thought of her, his insides fluttering and his body aching for more of her. He stopped at a crossroad, sniffing the air and this way and that to make sure he was still going the right way in following her.

Ears pressed forward alertly when her scent started to mix with Lazarus', but then he noted to himself that his disrespect was only towards himself and Floki, not her -- he thought. Otherwise he would have been removed from the pack ages ago.

He quickened his pace somewhat, though only because of the seemingly irrational feeling of possessiveness that lurched in his throat, driving him forward. He wanted to be with her in his stead. He continued to follow the trail onwards, still unaware what he'd find at its end.

They were complete, together. He felt it. In his current state, perhaps for all time, he believed she felt it too; all the while she resisted him, yet Lazarus only saw the fire within her. As she ducked away from him, as they became disjointed halves to a whole, he breathed her in — inhaling the scent of her heat mixed with his musk, basking in the knowledge that she belonged to him and there was nothing anyone could do to reverse that. It was a short-lived moment.

Her teeth set against him swiftly. Snapping, catching, pulling. A frenzy of grazed clips of her teeth to his chest and through his tangled fur, disheveled and matted by the contact of his body atop her own. This too Lazarus did not understand. She was filled with the spirit of a true warrior and that is all the man saw, all he felt, and he droned a note of great pleasure from the back of his throat; these were kisses, he thought, she loves me, lied his brain.

But what they had done — what she had wanted him to do — was over now. Lazarus was hazy with the aftermath of their carnal union, slipping backwards as if to invite her in to some kind of a game, not understanding that Amekaze had been wronged so greatly by him. Lazarus acted out of love — or what he'd call love, which in truth was his own lust, greed, and immense sense of self-importance.

He laughed as she fought him off. The man was too drowsy to protest her assault, so he continued to back away from her, away, away, away, until he found himself on a ledge, and was surprised. Briefly Lazarus turned to look at his rear paws as they found the edge of the mountain, and then with a tiny chuckle, his contented gaze landed upon Amekaze as if to say, dang, you got me! And then he began to slip away from her along the ridge in the manner of a peaceable lion on the prowl for sleep.

No matter how viciously she willed it, she couldn't find the force to rend him behind her jaws. While she caught her purchase, it was not enough. Never enough. She could only pull at his fur, and with every snap she waned, exhausted, bested. This reality burned her and when he moved out of reach, she couldn't pursue right away. Her muscles did not answer her immediately, and every second wallowing in her musky defeat with his laughter in her ears cut her deeply.

She had to pull it together and slowly, she steadied her legs beneath herself, knowing that once she crumbled completely, she'd not get up again right away. Poor timing, bad luck, and Lazarus had brutally overpowered her in the end.

The contentment in his eyes chilled her bones. At first she just watched with narrowed eyes, growling to herself as he slipped back and not immediately understanding his purpose in it; her head hurt so badly and she barely saw the invitation in the gesture. This was an assault on everything she'd ever been, she was reeling in the aftermath while her sights faded to a bitter red, and nothing else. She couldn't fathom the whole of what ran in his head, nor what this should mean. His mark on her may be unmistakable and now, she had to wonder what he would intend to do with it. Did he desire the mountain? Leadership? Only her? Her bloodline? Her love?  

But rage held fast, and held easily enough to make for fumes she could scrape by on for a quivering, ailing step forward to start her pitiful pursuit to dig her teeth into his hide. How dare he just leave her like that.. She snarled at his back, demanding otherwise, and so long as she breathed, she was determined to get what she wanted somehow -- even after such a cruel triumph over her.

Something eventually changed as he followed the trail. For some time both their scents mingled, but they did not seem to go hand in hand. Almost as though Lazarus had come to follow Ame much in the same way that Charon did now. Then the scents mingled, became more intense. He found a growl rumbling in his throat as he further quickened his pace and eventually came round the corner where the scents intensified and he was starting to feel sick to his stomach.

He wished to find some kind of good explanation for all of this but somehow could not fathom any. Ears pulled back and then forward as his eyes first laid upon Ame's weakened form, just as she sprang forward towards Lazarus, contentment on his face. Charon felt sicker now, for while the scene told him very little the scents were overwhelming, sickening. Normally very straight forward and impulsive, the emperor stood and stared for a moment now; almost as though to assess whether this had been a consensual thing; who he needed to chew out for this... and trying not to vomit under the pressure of the gross scents that lingered.

She was bold and he, drawing strength from it, could not resist the urge he held to be close to her. Even if she sank teeth through his flesh, called for blood to spill, Lazarus would laugh and happily spill it. Or so he thought. His brain was a mess of hormones and the after-effects of their union, so it was entirely possible that the pale man was drifting away from his usual behavior, even if only a little. He welcomed her attention whether it was hostile or not — Amekaze was just as tired as he was, perhaps moreso because of the injuries she had sustained through the great hunt — thus, it wasn't as if he expected much repremand.

It wasn't until the arrival of another — the pale boy king in fact — that Lazarus shifted gears. His laughter, deep and slightly menacing, petered out to silence; he looked over Amekaze's head towards the oncoming beast as if to appraise a deer for the hunt. Lazarus had been aware of the pack's absence during the fortuitous hunt whicih left the majority wounded, and perhaps this is what prompted Lazarus to take chances this day. He knew he was in fine form, and that there was a strong chance Charon could not contest him.

Then again, he did not believe the boy capable of much, let alone keep his place upon the throne next to Amekaze. It was his place, by right. She had welcomed him upon the mountain, tempted him, desired him. In Lazarus' mind, he was swiftly becoming the new master of the mountain — and he had claimed her, this dark creature, this beautiful and uncontrollable shadow — she had wanted him, which meant Charon was out of the picture.

Lazarus was stupid, in that way. Thinking this event was anything more than unwelcome violence. Yet as he peered across the expanse to where Charon stood waiting, the beast let a slow grin spread across his rugged features, and then he proudly slipped around Ame, his head high and swagger prominent. The flagging of his tail was enough to tell the boy everything: this is mine, he was saying, and so is she.

Every step upward she wished to seize for herself remained out of reach no matter how badly she wanted it, and there at the bottom, she was struggling to keep it together when such a defeat was so unfamiliar. Meanwhile, he basked in his victory and she was the spoils of it all.

It took far too much out of her just to stand, let alone act in full on her contempt, and even small steps and the snapping of her teeth around empty air sapped her already depleted reserves away faster with every next one. Dizziness was beginning to force itself into her focus more and more, and even anger and frustration could not color it entirely away by now. Whatever stance she had managed for herself (some whittled in-between of many things) swayed, for even when she tried to carry her head with any modicum of her power, it only seemed to exacerbate her problems. She could feel herself drooping, albeit fighting it weakly still, and waning too fast.

His new silence made her notice Charon's appearance, and this realization came with a great conflicting rush. He could help her. But even so.. he did not need to see any of this yet, her strewn out and stripped down to nothing but intent to kill in a body that couldn't heed her wants. It occurred to her darkly that he could forsake her for not being able to not have this happen; it was an act against him in so many ways as well, she couldn't even reach the edges of it yet. She whined before she realized the want to, and bristled anxiously with pinning ears when Lazarus' great presence swept around her soon after. Amekaze rumbled and peeled back her lips as she understood the message in part. Everything blurred, her head spun with sensation, scent, and an impressive exhaustion. Still, his possessive intent was still very clear and very worth the uneasiness she felt with both of them here like this. Neither did she like feeling like a commandeered prize.

When she tried to put new aggression into the flag of her tail then move away from him, her front legs gave and since consciousness' edge flickered already, she did not right herself immediately. Once she did, it was sluggish and pained. She wanted to leave. She wanted this over. She wanted him dead. She wanted no part of this hell.

There was a moment in which Charon considered what was happening there. For a moment he considered that perhaps he had been betrayed by more than one of his underlings, eyes flickering between Ame and Lazarus. But she had attacked him and he saw blood pelting his fur from her assaults; unless it was some kind of sick game he enjoyed she had no part in this betrayal.

Yet all of these thoughts were pushed aside, irrelevant now, when Lazarus taunted him. His thoughts could wait and without thinking, Charon bared his teeth, tail flagging up. Driven by the hormones that had brought him here in the first time, he moved forward. He had killed an idiot pack member before; he would finish what Ame started. Charon galloped toward the ledge and his opponent, aiming for the jugular with teeth bared, or to throw him off and away from Ame.

Did you wanna do this fight with dice in the tabletop forum, or just wing it through replies here?

This was everything he had ever wanted. Upon seeing the mountain for the first time, Lazarus knew he would one day control it — he knew he would be the master atop the peak, the strongest creature for miles, and he would spread his seed like a good soldier to those worthy of it. He had desired this mountain as soon as he'd stepped foot upon its soil; more so than his desire for Amekaze, Lazarus' devotion to this place was so intense it could not be put in to words. He could not leave the cliffside, would not leave it, even when the pack had called for aid during the hunt he had remained behind to guard it, to learn its paths and its many secrets.

But those secrets would not help him now—his knowledge of the mountain would not give him any sort of upperhand in this situation. He did not feel he needed the aid of the mountain though, so great was his ego. When Charon stood poised and ready to attack, he merely grinned; and then when the pale boy shot straight for him, a deep laugh spilled out from his gritted teeth and Lazarus, hungry for battle and bloodshed, welcomed the adrenaline spike. He ducked, turned an inch or two, and hoped he'd moved quick enough to deflect the oncoming ball of pale fur and rage with the jut of his shoulder. Lazarus' laughter was briefly inturrupted by the blow of body-against-body, and he snapped his teeth at the air, hoping his reach was not compromised as he sought the flesh of the boy king.

outcome is 2! roll ps i love how laz calls char the boy king <3 permission to skip ame since she is not all there ic anyway

Bodies collided, but Charon did not find the purchase he was looking for with his teeth. He hit only the hard shoulder blades that gave him little satisfaction rather than the jugular that he had intended to grab. At the same time, the wind was knocked out of him and he felt teeth grabbing for him. He was yet tender from the lightning strike, his head aching and pounding, as he bared his teeth and a snarl rumbled forth from his throat. He felt a stinging pain along the side of his neck and face the next moment, as though teeth were suddenly everywhere.

Head pounding but the adrenaline in his veins overpowering the pain, Charon's teeth sought to grab Lazarus' leg; if he could not reach the throat without getting his face chewed off then he would have to work his opponent to the ground -- or down his mountain, whichever came first -- so that he could freely have his way with him.

He deflected the bulk of the boy's attack with his shoulder, but there was still tenderness rising there, and the beast winced as he dove towards the boy's pale body. He snapped and grabbed, tore at what he could touch, but never held anything for long. Perhaps it was his own ego that clouded his jugement in this spontaneous moment, or maybe he was truly exhausted after having his way with the dark woman — but Lazarus was a touch slower than he should have been. Riled, yes, and filled with a viciously antagonistic spirit, but somehow everything was dulled by the after-effects of his love-making; and that is how he saw it, truly. Amekaze dancing before him, Lazarus planting himself as she desired atop her, the ensuing dominance, the dance of teeth — and the only thing out of place (to the monstrous warrior anyhow) was the appearance of Charon. But that would be remedied. Lazarus was intent on freeing the mountain of this child, of taking Amekaze as his own, fully, more-so than he had before, repeatedly — until the mountain quaked from his efforts and the world was consumed by his desires.

While Lazarus wanted to have his way with the dark woman, Charon wanted to have his way with him — a different method, but still some form of closeness, some kind of physical communion. Lazarus felt this in the air, was electrified by it as he had been by Amekaze, and grinned wholeheartedly while the boy pursued him. The blows came, their teeth met, flesh upon flesh and blood drawn, their white coats covered with the crimson fluid within moments. Lazarus would not kneel before this child any longer. Not now, not ever. He ruled this mountain — he had taken what he'd wanted, and this boy was too weak to contest him — and the persistence of Charon's anger was a marvel to behold.

Lazarus was a poor judge of the situation. He had poorly judged everything from the moment he'd stepped upon the mountain, but it would only dawn upon him later - if at all. They tussled and danced, all the while Charon drove him closer to the edge, until Lazarus felt the mountain crumbling on his heel; and he then adjusted his footing and launched himself forward, refusing to let this fool take what he had worked so hard to earn. But as he vaulted at Charon his weight was mis-managed, and the mountain did crumble beneath him regardless. He was not fast enough to stay upon the ledge, and was suddenly sliding rear-first down it — and yet still Lazarus fought for control, snapping and grabbing, trying to sink his teeth in to Charon and pull the boy down with him.

Blood flowed seemingly freely between them, everywhere, driving him on and pushing his desire to hurt this man further and further. The more blood he tasted and smelled — his own, Lazarus', it didn't matter — the more he wanted to crush Lazarus, to hurt him. At some point he did not even want to kill him anymore, not right away — all Charon wanted was to hurt Lazarus, to find a way to come close to the horror he had felt when he had come round the corner to witness his mate taken advantage of. Death was not even enough any longer.

Yet there came a point that Lazarus' grip on the mountain ledge crumbled and he started to fall down it. Charon watched the teeth snapping for him, paws grabbing. He wasn't even sure how he managed not to get dragged along, as he felt the teeth rip through the skin of his face, for he was too close, felt the teeth close around his muzzle and gravity pull him; but somehow, his paws held fast and all he saw through the blood and the pain was Lazarus sliding down the ledge at an alarming speed, his vengeance fulfilled and yet at the same time so very far away.

He moved over to nosed @Amekaze , feeling a taste of disgust as he looked over her ravaged body. It wasn't enough — he needed more — he needed revenge. But first he made sure that Amekaze was in a good enough state. He howled for @Floki , @Dash and @Judas to summon them to him with urgency — he would find Lazarus, and he would make him feel what it was like to be fucked with.

Her head spun and thoughts tumbled while she blurred the lines. Awareness, just enough of it, saw Charon make his lunge and Lazarus prepare to meet him. When she did, her breath stilled for a sickening beat. She could feel her skin prickling with anxiousness and the rest of her ensuring that she get out of the way of this immediate clash; despite how badly she wanted to be involved, somehow. But it was their fight at the moment. She had to regroup in the meantime.

The fury was palpable, thick and heavy on the humid air, and she couldn't keep up with the details of the altercation right now -- but only hoped it tipped well enough in Charon's favor to help keep him ahead until she could get her shit together. She had to catch her breath first, and desperately tried to pull together something while her body wilted considerably into a slump. She would only need a moment, she repeated mentally, even if the denial was too hard to ignore.

Yet what was meant to be a blink escalated right to prolonged darkness. She didn't know how long she was out, neither did she know how it happened. Every fiber felt tense -- so much so it pained her deeper than ever, her head burning up, and in the black of what she perceived as dreamscape, she relived the heat and electricity in a frightening rush. Distantly, she would later swear she could hear the fight and smell the blood, but all of that was of little consequence as her muscles pulled in tired agony. 

But it was a cool nudging touch that grounded her again. She fell back to awareness with a disoriented snarl and awoke in full to Charon's bloodied face. He wasn't dead. He wasn't Lazarus. Relief pooled, overflowed, and she groaned when she tried to get up again to look around and take him in. It all blurred, and blood overpowered her senses even when he howled -- the message of which she barely interpreted. At best, she managed to pull up halfway into a weak sit, but the grimace and distant look in her pained eyes were showing it was not easy, and certainly not what she wanted. As soon as the spinning in her head stopped and she could stand steadily, she would leave.

Ame awoke with a fierce snarl that did not startle him; it was good to see she had some of her spunk left in her even after what had happened. Charon's ears cupped forward at her as she tried to get to her feet. "I've called for Judas. He can escort you to wherever and patch you up," he said, not even thinking about the fact that Judas was also a male member of his pack. For some reason he didn't expect it to happen twice, and didn't consider he had better, female options to go for in regards to Ame's comfort.

"Dash and Flóki will help me look for Lazarus, or whatever remains of him." The words were spoken clear; this was how it would be, he had already made up his mind. He did not doubt she agreed him with him, for she was too weak to find him herself, and she had already been messed up once. Doubtlessly she did not want for it to happen again.