Swiftcurrent Creek tongue-tickling bubble juice

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Oh, the man did not like that! The spectral, stoic brute broke his facade and released a snarl that raked across her hackles and snaked in shivers down her spine. The bravado that she felt not even five seconds before vaporized from her soul and the waif was left with nothing but fear and dread. Immediately she was reminded of the reason she did not provoke wolves or draw unnecessary attention to herself, and why she slunk about the shadows of the night and actively sought her solitude. She was no good when interacting with others, for she intuitively understood the nature of the wolf, but her brain was stupid and jumbled up her emotions until she was not in control of her own reactions. Why had she bothered this man who so clearly wanted to be left alone — why had she followed him and yelled at him — how could she have lost her temper, and how could she have felt good while doing it — and now, he was going to hurt her for it.

The man pulled himself up, menacingly tall. The brute much bigger than her and towered over her small form which, for a second, appeared smaller due to an instinctive flinch, recoil, and turn of the head. That growl; it grated in her mind and Olive found it was hard to think of the next best move, could not make sense of why he was punishing her for trying to speak, wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve his incivility in the first place. Was this how he solved his problems, like a fucking animal? Why wouldn’t he just use his words?

Well, two could play at that game.

Lightening quick, the ashen fae’s entire demeanor changed and a snarl flashed across her features, flews pulling back to expose dainty fangs [not used to being exposed in fits of rage]. Sadness, yes — but rage? Never! Olive herself was surprised when she felt her entire body tense, and even more surprised when she thrust her weight forward, springing upon her twiggy hindquarters, and lunged at the man — and she was most surprised yet when she clipped her snapdragon jaws at him, attempting to grab some fur or skin or anything — but, at its essence, it was an attempting to mitigate her extreme frustration in the only way that felt natural at the moment.  She would certainly pay for such disobedience, either at the behest of his fangs or the retribution of the gods... but, here, mid-charge, the woman could not find it in herself to care.