svalla felt restless. she'd returned in the early morn after having successfully recruited lorcan to their cause. the winning side, as the old gods and new would see their victory.
it'd been decades since she'd last marched into war. so long since she last felt war-drums reverberating their hymn in her chest, the rush of victory.
she was ready. a wildling was always ready for battle—it was in her blood, her very being. and yet, the march couldn't come soon enough. and time spent standing still felt like time wasted.
faust was busy, readying darukaal for battle. gjalla still on bed rest, nursing her wounds. and @Blackfell...her old friend, in which she feared she might have turned into an enemy.
she hadn't the time to speak to him. to apologize, now that pride had been set aside. and so she calls for him, her song stark and sharp as it slices through northern winds.
perhaps a spar is what they needed to put the feud she'd started to rest. just like old times.
it'd been decades since she'd last marched into war. so long since she last felt war-drums reverberating their hymn in her chest, the rush of victory.
she was ready. a wildling was always ready for battle—it was in her blood, her very being. and yet, the march couldn't come soon enough. and time spent standing still felt like time wasted.
faust was busy, readying darukaal for battle. gjalla still on bed rest, nursing her wounds. and @Blackfell...her old friend, in which she feared she might have turned into an enemy.
she hadn't the time to speak to him. to apologize, now that pride had been set aside. and so she calls for him, her song stark and sharp as it slices through northern winds.
perhaps a spar is what they needed to put the feud she'd started to rest. just like old times.
March 13, 2025, 09:55 AM
ears twist, muscles stiffening beneath thick fur. a tension coils within, old wounds stinging with fresh bite.
but still, he answers.
the warbringer approaches, steps firm, gaze unreadable. eyes sweep over svalla—assessing, remembering. he lifts his chin, proud, stubborn, defiant.
shoulders roll slowly, loosening for the fight she clearly wants. perhaps what they both need. teeth flash, invitation clear in dark gaze.
but still, he answers.
the warbringer approaches, steps firm, gaze unreadable. eyes sweep over svalla—assessing, remembering. he lifts his chin, proud, stubborn, defiant.
svalla.voice clipped, cool. not yet warm, but softer than before. the ghost of friendship lingering beneath icy edges.
shoulders roll slowly, loosening for the fight she clearly wants. perhaps what they both need. teeth flash, invitation clear in dark gaze.
come, then. i owe you a beating.
— “norse“ ·
common
March 13, 2025, 10:57 AM
the raven descends to join her. she regards him with a tilt of her chin, a lingering defiant look in her eyes. softened just so with the apology stuck in her throat.
it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? both and he faust had hammered it into her mind, that she was playing the role of a child. refusing to let go of bitter memories that still haunted her.
those words would remain unspoken, until the victor of their spar declared.
she flashed teeth of her own with a sharp, knowing smile. she hadn't fought him since they were gangly kids still learning their strength. he had grown, he had hardened. he was a crownore, and those bastards were notoriously known for never yielding.
"you talk too much. on your move, crownore." she squared herself, the call of battle a hum in her veins.
it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? both and he faust had hammered it into her mind, that she was playing the role of a child. refusing to let go of bitter memories that still haunted her.
those words would remain unspoken, until the victor of their spar declared.
she flashed teeth of her own with a sharp, knowing smile. she hadn't fought him since they were gangly kids still learning their strength. he had grown, he had hardened. he was a crownore, and those bastards were notoriously known for never yielding.
"you talk too much. on your move, crownore." she squared herself, the call of battle a hum in her veins.
blackfell meets her gaze, dark eyes glinting with savage humor. her defiance pulls at something familiar, almost nostalgic beneath scarred flesh. old friends—old grudges—made fresh again.
his own teeth flash in return, sharp and feral. paws spread, stance low, muscles coiled beneath battle-scarred pelt. the wildling stands before him, unyielding—good. she always was stubborn.
a rough, amused grunt slips from his chest.
he lunges, movement swift and punishing. chest collides with hers, shoulders rolling forward to push her back, teeth snapping toward the thick scruff of her neck.
his own teeth flash in return, sharp and feral. paws spread, stance low, muscles coiled beneath battle-scarred pelt. the wildling stands before him, unyielding—good. she always was stubborn.
a rough, amused grunt slips from his chest.
have it your way, wildling.
he lunges, movement swift and punishing. chest collides with hers, shoulders rolling forward to push her back, teeth snapping toward the thick scruff of her neck.
— “norse“ ·
common
April 07, 2025, 09:59 PM
the collision is met with a winded laugh. the air forced from her lungs in a single breath. he struck like a mountain; firm and true, but she would not bow nor bend. not so easily. ivory claws carve their shallow paths against cold earth as she struggles to keep her stance against his bulk, his strength. countering it with her own shove, their shoulders collide again. she narrowly misses the snap of his jaws at her scruff with a duck.
jaws part for just a moment, snapping once she finds a sturdy limb. wildling fang piercing crownore flesh with fury, his blood trickling onto her tongue. her hold is firm as she thrashes her head, aiming to render that limb useless for the rest of their spar, as she might not emerge victorious without the advantage. while that limb remains between her jaws, she crashes their shoulders once more, hoping to topple the crownore into submission.
it was unlikely. crownores hardly ever bent, hardly ever broke.
jaws part for just a moment, snapping once she finds a sturdy limb. wildling fang piercing crownore flesh with fury, his blood trickling onto her tongue. her hold is firm as she thrashes her head, aiming to render that limb useless for the rest of their spar, as she might not emerge victorious without the advantage. while that limb remains between her jaws, she crashes their shoulders once more, hoping to topple the crownore into submission.
it was unlikely. crownores hardly ever bent, hardly ever broke.
April 11, 2025, 08:27 PM
her teeth sink in, white-hot, and blackfell grunts through it, not with weakness but with grim approval. his blood hits her tongue, but he does not yield. no—he comes alive.
the moment she thrashes, he anchors. his weight slams down through his hips, forcing his injured leg to brace even as it screams beneath her hold. snow gives beneath his paws. earth cracks. but he holds.
and then—he strikes. blackfell throws his weight into her again, full tilt, a freight of flesh and vengeance. the shoulder she seeks to topple becomes a weapon, crashing into her side with bone-splitting intention.
the moment she thrashes, he anchors. his weight slams down through his hips, forcing his injured leg to brace even as it screams beneath her hold. snow gives beneath his paws. earth cracks. but he holds.
and then—he strikes. blackfell throws his weight into her again, full tilt, a freight of flesh and vengeance. the shoulder she seeks to topple becomes a weapon, crashing into her side with bone-splitting intention.
— “norse“ ·
common
April 14, 2025, 12:00 AM
the taste of his blood is a fleeting, small victory. it floods her throat as she holds fiercely onto a limb that nearly bends beneath her hold. but it doesn't. teeth are ripped away from their hold as the fury of is weight barrels against her svelte side.
knocked off balance for a beat, she stumbles. but she is just as quick to recoup and dance away from his aim with a goading, bloodied smile. "stubborn as ever," she rasps. tail flagging with dominance as she circles the crownore. watching each ripple of muscle, assessing his exhaustion and his weaknesses.
knocked off balance for a beat, she stumbles. but she is just as quick to recoup and dance away from his aim with a goading, bloodied smile. "stubborn as ever," she rasps. tail flagging with dominance as she circles the crownore. watching each ripple of muscle, assessing his exhaustion and his weaknesses.
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