Dragoncrest Cliffs immortal,

the morning air is hot, and thick with moisture from the rains that fell during the night. praimfaya makes her way thru the tall wet grasses, frostbound gaze alert. solemn, perhaps, as she steps into the territory that had once been her mother's home. dragoncrest cliffs. her steps are careful, cautious as she examines the sheer cliffs that drop off into the roiling sea below. she doesn't linger by them long, instead veering into the forest to explore what her mother's once home had to offer her ...if it had anything to offer her more than ghosts. she knows she must return to sagtannet soon but she allows herself this diversion, if only once.

Steals this for our merc thread ;)

You basically already set the setting but I’m going to give it more detail if that’s okay! ;)
Setting: Morning — 09:36, clear skies, fresh morning dew, maybe only slightly foggy because of last nights rain. Weather — hotish lol

The massive male makes his way through the tall grass that tickled his legs irritably, giving him a feigning itch that pisses him off more than it really should. Yet, the quickly warming weather and humidity is finally getting to him. Sure he enjoys summertime, but — hell — does he feel sticky, hot, and smell fucking musky? Absolutely. So much so that he finds himself loosely hanging his blackened tongue out of his dangerous jaws. It’s only the morning too, he just can’t wait until the afternoon hits him with a glorious new front of heat. The kind that makes him want to take a dip in the nearby ocean or river; the mind that make his paws sweat and has him itching at his thick (now thinning due to weather) coat viciously. 

So he finds himself looking about for food this fine morning. Slinking along the edges of the coast hoping to find an easier way down, he might just go fishing. Or maybe he’ll catch a seal or two if he’s lucky.

As his heavy paws urge him forward, his sheer size is daunting all by itself, but his mass also adds to the effect. The beams put off by the sun shine off of his mesmerizing pelt crossed with varying hues of pale chocolates and coals. His muscles shift beneath it as he carries himself confidently. Then only a few meters off he spies a sleek wolf of pale whites and shimmering silvers. One of female type if he has anything to say about it by their feminine outline.

An interested and devious smile contorts his handsome face as he furrows his brows, yet no maliciousness shows in his immediate expression. He drives himself forward with a mission now, not too fast but in an easy walk he shamelessly presents himself before the other wolf. Only a comfortable thirty feet away does he allow himself to be seen, but perhaps she’s already seen him. After all, he hasn’t really been trying to be quiet. 

His head is held high and his face carries that same curious smile, though now he comes forth with more caution and a brow raised at her. A stupid amount of confident in his step. “Morning.” He sounds out smoothly. “Have a rough night, dear?” 

it feels strange to be here, this place that should've been her birthright. she understands the reasoning behind her mother's departure ...drageda had been failing and the brewing war had not been a place blodreina'd wanted her to be born. older and closer to womanhood, praimfaya was better able to appreciate the weight of the decision ...despite that she herself was not yet old enough to bear children. she would be soon, she knows. it was a brave choice blodreina had made even if it left her branded a traitor by those she had loved and fought beside. but that was the plus of being wanheda, of being the commander. she took that stain away from her mother.

her thoughts drift like the salty wind from the sea that whips 'round her fur, offering a reprieve from the oppressive heat that lays heavy like a thick, suffocating blanket. maybe one day, she thinks, as she continues on her way, curious and exploring, she might lay claim to these cliffs on her own. after the fall of roangeda, however, she is not so eager to jump back into it. she is content in sagtannet, and trying to find who she is beneath the title she's bore for all of her life.

a figure approaches, heavy of foot, and burly. frostbound gaze takes him in with standard caution, tail neutral even as she gives a lift of her muzzle; ears perking as he speaks to her. her first thought, as he draws nearer for her to make out details of his face, is that he's handsome ...in the way that all dangerous things were. instinct tells her to be cautious, especially as he calls her 'dear', as if they are familiar. but she is wanheda, the commander of death and though cautious she isn't afraid.

hei, she greets in return, not bothering to correct the slip of trigedasleng. not really. praimfaya says, adhering to sun tzu's teachings of 'appear strong when you are weak, and weak when you are strong'. she was a bit tired from her travels but her demeanor had more to do with the ghosts of the cliffs than it did anything else. this place is full of ghosts.

As her silvery gaze meets his, she offers a greeting back. Though the language she gives, he does not understand. Thankfully, the silver she-wolf continues on, an unbothered not really comes from her. Donovan tilts his head and gazes at her with a hint of suspicion, he can tell there’s something bothering, but he is no therapist and surely she wouldn’t want to share with him anyway. So he continues to allow his gaze to linger on her as she says her last words. She seems bothered by her own ghosts of the past, Donovan can relate, though he’s not sure if her loss is as recent as his. Or if it’s even a loss at all, who knows.

At this he hums in acknowledgment, perhaps even his own demons show through his somber expression. He gazes down to the cliff and out onto the great open ocean. After a few seconds, he shifts his golden hues back to her, the gloomy expression he held prior completely gone now. A playful smirk brandishes his maw and he nods his chin up to her, a challenge in his sparkling yellow orbs. 

“How about we take your mind off it then?” He offers, brows furrowed Yet the smirk remains. He widens his stance and his curled tail even dares to wag a bit on his hips. “A spar. Fight me.” He hums playfully.

praimfaya hears the soft hum the stranger makes, perhaps in acknowledgement of her statement or perhaps it was a simple noise to communicate that he's heard her. regardless, praimfaya offers a small, terse smile, feeling a grief as she stands on these cliffs ...a grief that does not belong to her. an echo; so strange that she thinks it is just her imagination, blodreina's tales resurfacing stronger here where they've taken place.

praimfaya's ears perk, frostbound gaze fierce and studious as the stranger offers a spar in a playful tone with the guise of meaning it as a distraction. for her? or for him? it seems a bit reckless to her, to run the potential of suffering injuries so far from the towering spire of sawtooth — comforting and home. how do you know i can fight? praimfaya inquires in a coy hum of her own; like the sphinx as she presents her riddle to those who seek safe passage.

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160 words

The pale coated female seems to perk up at the mention of a fight and Donovan smirks at the reaction. Though when she questions him he can’t help but allow a loose laugh bubble past his throat.

“Now, you don’t exactly look defenseless.” He he offers back, an interested expression settles on his face with a single cocked brow. Then he tilts his chin up to her. “Do you assume that I can fight?” The brindled male asks with a jesting face that says, ‘come on now’.

praimfaya allows a small lift of her brows, a silent acknowledgement to his observation. he wasn't wrong ...but she can't help but wonder if she did not bear the kill marks from her conclave ...would he think the same? would she appear as draconian as she truly was or like a pretty, lithe girl easy to prey upon? praimfaya almost snorts at that. she doesn't really know what she looks like — warped reflections in ponds hardly counted as a mirror — but she doubts however it is it isn't pretty or lithe.

i always assume everyone can fight. praimfaya admits with a lofty shrug of her shoulders, paws sweeping the ground as she feigns a lunge, recoiling back. she paces a few seconds: left and right before she lunges for real on impulse, teeth aiming for his shoulder.

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139 words

Roll here.

Donovan stands before her confidently as she raises a brow to him, his golden orbs never leaving her own eyes the color of ice or silver. At her statement he chuckles. “That is always a good way to do things. It’s bad to underestimate someone.” He hums, keeping a keen eye on her as she begins moving. 

Then she’s thrusting herself towards him like a lightening bolt. She’s fast, perhaps faster then he’s guesses she is, but so is Donovan. He’s able to skip out of the way of those pearly whites of hers just in the nick of time. Hell, she was close enough to probably rip fur out, but in the end, her attack is fruitless. Though when he attempts his own, he too, bares no fruit. His swipe of paws to the silvery wolf’s face are not quick enough and it leaves him open for an attack.

so the dance of warriors begins. a match of deadly elegance as her attack misses. she does not anticipate missing her mark, teeth snapping against empty air. she uses her momentum to her advantage as she pirouettes out of the range of his swipe aimed for her face upon swift paws. her heart beat thrums in her chest as she rapidly studies the situation and his sudden vulnerability. praimfaya wastes no time as she counter attacks, shoulder slamming into his ribcage, in the favored move of her mother.

Roll here.

As expected, his vulnerability is taken advantage of and the female hits him square on. She’s fast and, unsurprisingly, she hits hard. The she-wolf’s shoulder connects with the left side of his rib cage and it rightfully knocks the breath straight out of him. He staggers to the right and sucks in a deep breath and he feels the sting in his side. Though it hurts  he only takes a second to recover, he’s no stranger to pain after all.

In a moments time he is shooting to the left, only taking two quick steps to catch up the her and his teeth instantly meet the pale white fur of her neck. He grips securely enough to keep a good grip on her, but not enough to puncture or hurt too much.
His hind legs are thickly muscled and they plant themselves securely to push her sideways. He’s comfortably taller than her and must have a good few pounds on the female as well. If she’s able to move him out of place it will be an impressive feat.

praimfaya is satisfied when she knocks the breath out of him, wrongfully assuming it will give her another opening. he recovers with surprising quickness and stoppered by her own arrogance she is not quick enough to evade him. he comes at her, teeth bared and finds his mark. she lets out a low growl as his teeth find purchase in her neck; her attempt to protect it as good as throwing a pebble against a concrete wall for all it did ( nothing, that is ). she tries to break his grasp by tossing her weight around to no avail. stubborn, she refuses to stop trying nevertheless. the fight wasn't over.

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109 words

Roll here.

The male is able to overpower the silvery wolf that seems to definitely be putting up a rather entertaining fight. She has a lot of strength but luck is on his side in this battle. She is unable to thrash his deadly jaws off of her and, now, he refused to let go. Rather his planted hind legs push and push more. With one last shove and a flex of his jaw, he’s has her toppling over. He wastes no time getting the mount and trapping her in on either side with muscles arms and legs. All the while his jaws hold onto her beautifully pale pelt wet with saliva. He shakes is head, not putting as much strength in it as he really could, rather he gives he her some leeway. He doesn’t want to seriously hurt her after all. Though he will stay here, locked into her neck until she manages to pry him off. Hopefully it’s soon. It’s good to test her strength and resilience, after all had this been a real life fight, she wouldn’t have been so lucky.

his grip upon her scruff tightens and she lets out another warning growl. she is at a disadvantage pinned beneath him and pressed against the ground. she hates this. she is a warrior. she is wanheda. she is almost a master warrior and she is easily bested as this? a low, dangerous snort rips from her and she continues to thrash, trying to upend him. to no avail. her mind races, sorting through tactics she can apply ...desperate for anything to get her footing again. a lengthy breath is given and her shoulders sag in what she hopes he thinks is defeat.

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102 words

Imma let him fall for the bait. ;)

Donovan’s hold is still strong as the first second he had grabbed her. Though he’s been on her so long he surprised that she’s unable to get up. He’s beginning to see the fight come to an end and eventually the paler wolf stops her struggling. Her body becoming pliant and he looks to her face from the corner of his eye. The fire still seems fresh in her glacial hues. Though, he decides to allow it to slip this time. Donovan has no clue whether or not she’ll come back for him teeth bared when he begins loosening the grip he has on her neck. If it happens then it happens but until then, his goal isn’t to frustrate her and have her actually want to kill him. 

So inevitably, his jaws loosen and his blackened tongue is flicking out over his own lips, cleansing himself of any drops of saliva there, even though he’s mostly just getting the light dusting of her white fur in his mouth. He lifts his head but doesn’t get off of her, suspicion is paint are all over his expression. He’ll wait till she moves to get up to get off of her.

Feel free to pp him getting off of her if she decides to get up and all. :)

feel free to reply once more or archive as is. thanks for the thread & spar! :D

the bait she offers is taken and when he allows her, praimfaya rises to her paws; glad to be free of his weight. for a savage second, frostbound gaze zeroes in on him and she considers going in for an attack. he leaves the opening and it tempts her, taunts her. it is only by the grace of accepting defeat — she must practice what she preaches — that she lets the proverbial door close and refrains from taking advantage of the moment. it was a spar; fun. from where she stands there was no true honor in being fighting that dirty ...at least in this circumstance.

it was a good spar. i had fun. thanks for that. she says with a small lift of her chin. maybe i'll see you around. she says with a wave of her tail in a goodbye gesture before taking her leave to explore the cliffs more indepth. she was never one to really stick around and, at any rate, wanted to explore before she would, ultimately need to consider heading back to sagtannet.

No prob! Thank YOU for the thread! ;D

She’d gotten up and looks for a moment that she is thinking about attacking him once again. Though he readies himself mentally, she doesn’t. Almost disappointed he watches her back turn and then she says her goodbyes. Donovan nods curtly to her with an easy smile. “Safe travels then, dear.” He offers as his own.