Ankyra Sound I'm totally not screwing with you, man. Totally.

@Kjalarr but anyone else is welcome. Rolls here

Maude squinted at the wavering dark form in the pool. It was definitely something. Something alive. She had seen it move. But what was it exactly? The yellow eyes, burning like coals narrowed as she leaned forward to get a closer look at the creature. Could she eat it? Her stomach rumbled in protest: of course she could! But she had no idea what it was. Was it poisonous?

Fuck it. The wench decided, darting forward to snap her jaws around the thing. As soon as her jaws clamped down on it, the identity of the food-thing became clear: crab. And it was still alive. Maude winced as it's pincers latched firmly onto her lip and nose, firmly biting into it in order for it to calmthefuckdownanddiealready.

Kjalarr had been doing his routine patrols on an empty stomach his hunt had been a failure and rather than waste what energy remained on another hunt he put it towards tending to his duties as Beta. It was far from ideal but if he was being honest with himself the whole famine wasn't ideal. It was a nightmare — akin to Ragnarok but somehow, he felt, it was worse. Not the twilight of the Gods as he'd first assumed but rather a punishment from them of some type. He wasn't sure the motive but it was the only conclusion the Viking could come to and thus it sufficed. He struggled to believe the very simple notion that something like the swarm could just happen at random.

A curse caught his attention, his ears flickering idly in the familiar voice's direction not so far from his current position. It was true that he didn't particularly enjoy Maude's company by any stretch of the imagination but he did have some sort of obligation to be cordial and tend to her survival ...as he did with any member of Saltwinter. It took him a moment to grasp the situation, as bizarre as it initially was to him, noting the crab (in all it's colorless, monochrome glory) clinging to Maude's nose as if it's life depended upon it — which no doubt it did. She seemed to be grappling with the clawed beast. “Everything well here, Maude?” Kjalarr snickered, biting back the laughter that bubbled as a forewarning in the deep curve of his chest. “Or do you need assistance with that mighty beast?” Perhaps she didn't need help but currently the smug asshat that was Kjalarr Loðbrok was enjoying this scene and his interpretations of it much more than he should have. Unable to hold it back anymore he barked a laugh: hearty as it was.

Maude snarled at the crab, feeling its shell crunch underneath her fangs. Finally.

Wait. Why weren't it's claws releasing? Maude tried to let go, only to have the crab hang onto her face. The pirate shook wildly, her eyes watering as the dead crab hung firmly onto her. Maude snarled, pawing the crustacean vigorously. She could feel her skin pulling with the tight death grip that the crab had on her.

She looked up at the pale wolf, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the Beta. How's 'bout ye 'elp me, then, O Great and Powerful Kah-lah-arrrrrr? The wench snapped, shaking her head once more. I'lls split it wit ye if'n ye can get it offa me!

Maude appeared to be struggling to dislodge the deceased crab — thought to be such by Kjalarr due to the splits within it's shell and it's otherwise lack of movement — that still clung to her nose. She ignored his question, which had been more or less rhetorical anyway: he could tell well enough that Maude was having a hard time of it, simply couldn't resist the opportunity to rib her for it. His hackles bristled at her tone, upper lip curling back to reveal his teeth at what he took to be her insubordination. “I am your Beta, Maude,” The pallid Viking reminded her with a sharp rumble. “You would do well to remember that when you speak to me, or the crab will be the least of your problems.” Kjalarr warned her. Even if she was struggling, even if she was in pain he was still her superior and Kjalarr would see her submission even if he had to aggressively force her into it himself. There were few wolves who could talk to him as brazenly as she did: though that honor was strictly reserved for family. “Would you like to try that again?” He inquired simply. The truth was: whether he helped her or not depended solely upon her. The crab wasn't enough for one wolf, let alone two and if he refused to help her due to insubordination then he wasn't really losing much. A few slurps of meat, perhaps; whereas she stood to suffer more than just the pinch of the crab's locked claw.

Maude generally hated the song-and-dance that wolves had to go through in order to appease their superiors. In Tortuga only slaves crawled around with their tails between their legs. Sure, fights broke out and some were lucky enough to have their fights broken apart before anyone died, with apologies being forced from one or the other, but never did she have to crawl on her belly to ask her First Mate something. It was never this severe. Not even with Feragho. She despised kow-towing for this boy (she was barely older than him, but it still counted), who had honestly done nothing to gain her respect, her fear, nor her adoration.

Fine, then. She snapped, her previously teasing and jovial mood disappearing with an annoyed snarl. The wench lowered her head, wincing slightly. Can you please 'elp me, sir? She crooned in a whimper, mimicking some urchin or whatnot. She wasn't going to fake her submission to him, no matter what he threatened.

And if he was going to be an ass about all this, she was sure she could get the crab off herself.

Somehow.

Ah, so he could get under her skin as thoroughly and irately as she got under his. Good. Kjalarr was easily pleased by this knowledge, though her snarl earned her a warning flash of his teeth. She had always tested his patience since their very first meeting and he was not so sure that she hadn't joined Saltwinter just to personally vex him. No doubt that was egotistical of him to think for surely vexing him must take up a lot of one's agenda ...but he hadn't disproved it, yet. Kjalarr eyed her for a moment, his own want to poke fun at her situation dissolved by their disagreements. A soft sigh left his muzzle as he deliberated for only a moment longer. “Hold still,” Kjalarr commanded closing the distance between them, though his words were softened. “This may hurt,” Though Kjalarr thought it was guaranteed to hurt but was sure he did not need to speak such a thing aloud. No doubt Maude was hurting as it was — what was a little more pain? He grasped the crustacean betwixt his jaws and around it counted down, “On three...One...Two-” And he jerked his head violently in an attempt to free Maude from it's death (heh) grip.

Her debasing pleading had convinced the Beta, as he urged to be called, to finally help her with her predicament, if delayed by a few moments. Maude glared at Kjalarr for a few moments as he hemmed and hawed, silently urging him to hurryupandgetthisdamnedthingoffofme. The pale wolf finally commanded her to hold still, an order she quickly followed, bracing herself for the tug.

It was not without pain, of course. Something like this always was. She braced herself, digging her paws into the sand as best as she could, waiting for the numbers to finally hit thr-

FFFFFFFFFFUUUUCKKK!! She screeched. While the crab had successfully been torn away from her face, it took a part of her with it; a gap in her nose, right above her nostril, and a tear in her lip. It bled, copiously. Maude felt her eyes tearing up as she whined in agony, her tongue washing over the two gaps furiously.

The curse that left Maude's lips did not surprise the Norseman whose ears splayed back against his skull nevertheless. His goal had been accomplished: he had freed Maude from the crustacean that had clung mercilessly to her...but the action of freeing her from the crab's claws had torn her nose and upper lip. He spit the shelled corpse down into the sand between them and licked his chops, the taste of salt water poignant upon his lips. She was bleeding profusely and Kjalarr took a step back to presumably give her space and because she had surely not intended for him to injure her in the process of crab removal and for both of their sakes did not wish to be the brunt of her ire and pain. A verbal attack (and/or physical) would only end in more unnecessary bloodshed.

There was nothing else he could do for her. He was no healer and hadn't the faintest clue how to ease her pain or bleeding, figuring that it would ease on it's own. Of course that had been his method with the scars he bore across his muzzle and was probably the reason why they were so prominent: they had not been tended to properly and thus left the nasty scars that marked him apart from Floki. “Sorry,” It was a rare word to be uttered from the Viking's lips and yet it was genuine all the same. “you should keep it to yourself,” Kjalarr spoke to her, remembering her previous offer: that if he helped to free her he could split it with her. “you deserve it more than I do.” Besides, given her injured state she'd probably need it's meager nourishment more than he.

Maude whimpered softly as she licked the consistently bleeding wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. She was no healer, nor a herbalist. She didn't know how to stop the bleeding other than to let it scab over. But that didn't help the pain, at all.

But what did help, if in the slightest way, was Kjalarr's response. Sorry? He actually said sorry? What a strange day this was. First a crab attached itself to her face, then Mr. High n' Mighty apologizes. A-ain't yer fault, mate. She shook her head, inadvertently spraying drops of blood across the sand. Her tongue washed across her muzzle once more, the blood still flowing. This was being a bitch.

Thanks, then. Maude felt awkward all of a sudden. She'd never thought she would have to say thanks to this guy. Well, she was going to after the crab was removed, but the circumstances had changed. She picked the crab up, blood seeping into its shell. Well, it already tasted salty. Won't change a thing if some more was added to its flavor.

It was a strange thing...to apologize, for it was not something that Kjalarr found himself uttering often. He did not believe in speaking in without sincerity — and in fact couldn't remember the last wolf he'd apologized to. Floki, perhaps. Maybe Scimitar. Regardless, it had been too long that he couldn't say for certain. A simple shrug of his broad shoulders was offered when Maude stuttered briefly over her words meant to ...what? assure him that it wasn't his fault. No, the crab attaching itself to her face hadn't been his fault and that hadn't been what he'd been apologizing for. He hadn't meant to rip parts of her flesh off but he had not bothered to think of any better way to go about the removal of the crustacean from where it had clung to her flesh. Maybe there had been...but then again, maybe there hadn't been and it was what it was.

Kjalarr kept to his silence, though, even when Maude put to words her gratitude. It was a simple “thanks” but Kjalarr got the feeling that it was as rare as his apologizes. The situation turned awkward quickly — though perhaps Kjalarr was simply feeding off of Maude's energy. The silence stretched between them as he diverted his eyes feeling the heavy oppression of awkwardness himself. “You're welcome.” Kjalarr rumbled gruffly. This...wasn't what he was used to. He was used to her constant jibbing and digging herself under his skin to the point that when they held some semblance of a normal conversation Kjalarr was left without knowing what to do. His gaze skimmed over her, watching as she picked up the crab for a moment before he inhaled deeply and let it out, his ears splaying back to rest at half mast atop his skull.

“You think you'll be ok?” Kjalarr asked then, out of courtesy. It was apart of his job as Beta, after all: to look after the wolves of Saltwinter and Maude was just as much a member of Saltwinter as Kjalarr himself and the Viking had a responsibility to her — same as he did every one else.

Maude was glad the crab hid most of her confused, embarrassed expression, one she was not used to wearing. She nodded, unable, or unwilling, to speak. This was...strange. For her, and for Kjalarr. Why, she could not say for sure. She had "apologized" to others before, but it had never been like this before. It was never, sincere? she supposed. Ugh...this was disgustingly uncomfortable.

Her stomach rumbled, quickly diverting her from the strange feelings. Gotta go mate. This crab's callin' me name from the depths o' 'ell. She managed to speak over the crab's carapace. It was probably garbled, mangling her words even further. See ya! She quickly exited the scene, perhaps quicker than she intended, hoping that eating this little bugger was going to take her mind off of this situation.

Exit Maude!

The awkwardness and lack of comfort between the two of them continued and for once in his life Kjalarr had no intentions of being the one to break the silence. He didn't know what to say. In truth, it probably didn't need to be so complicated but it was and Kjalarr wanted to be out of Maude's company...probably just as much as the she-pirate desired to be out of his. “Right, see you.” He spoke after clearing his throat when Maude made her exit. He didn't watch her go, instead breathing in a deep sigh of relief as he turned his back to her and went his own way, decidedly in the opposite direction knowing that a patrol or something would keep him occupied long enough to make him forget this awkward and weird exchange had ever happened in the first place.