Northstar Vale – did it forge a love that you might have never found? (chl.)

fighting with her ...even as relatively harmless as a spar of dominance is not what he wants; but the world has rarely given melkor what he has wanted. it twists his path and forces him to decisions that are never easy but necessary evils over and over. he would not hurt her, he is determined. would not break and blister her skin with sharpened canines designed for exactly that purpose. fate sits upon her cloudy perch overlooking the lovers as she now draws nearer and melkor pitches his own path so that he is circles like a boxer in a fighting pit; crookedly fate chuckles ever delighted.

without voice, without warning melkor rushes for her, teeth aiming for ( scarred? ) nape in the hopes of pushing her to the dirt beneath him. if talking will not free her from whatever non-benevolent thing that possesses her than perhaps force will. ❝stop.❞ rumbles from his chest ( perhaps muffled by her fur if his attempt to grasp her scruff is successful ); the terrible command of a terrible general that is willing to let whatever unseen beast claims her slither into him. he is a warlord, is he not? he can handle it, he tells himself.