Ravensblood Forest Looking for a fight?

i wasn't sure who was supposed to go first so starting round 1. :0 hopefully i did this right, lol.

Drogon realizes that the other male — from a pack whose name he doesn’t know because he doubted he would have understand even if the merle girl had told him as at the time she was still learning to pronounce words and speak — speaks in quid pro quo as he offers the soturi a “maybe I do, maybe I don’t” response and then proceeds to offer a not too serious proposition. The tundrian wasn’t so sure he wanted to play twenty questions with the man but it was true that Drogon wanted to, at least, know what this stranger’s business was and why he needed to walk through lands that were int he process of being claimed to do so; and the tundrian supposes that social etiquette ( not that he’s terribly well versed or mannered in such things ) dictates that an answer for an answer is only fair. Plus, the friendly spar is a chance to practice and Drogon has missed the practice with an animate object. Trees work as excellent palus but they are utterly unyielding and do not offer the experience of sparring with something that moves and thinks and fights back.

He isn’t very interested in the twenty question part, admittedly, aside from seeking the answer to his perfectly reasonable question but as it’s the whole point of the deal offered before him Drogon begrudgingly accepts them as a packaged deal.

“Deal.” The tundrian accepts with a grin that reveals his sharp, pearly white teeth. A grin made for war. He takes a moment to stretch languidly: in a true fight there wasn’t any time to warm up his muscles but this was only a friendly spar between two strangers in an effort to solve their unwillingness to answer the other’s questions. “Beauty before age,” The aspiring warlord teases haughtily with a shit-eating grin. “I don’t have a home. I haven’t for a long time.” What was it now? Two months? Three? He’s lost count and this time it has nothing to do with his coping mechanism. His answer given he surges forward with a low snarl in his throat with intent to ram his shoulder against the older male’s rib cage.