Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

Spar Roll here!

The grin the other meets him with only causes his own smirk to trickle into his lips. At Merrick’s confident words an, “Oh?” escapes him.

The male steps ahead in the brindled wolf-dog, seeming to take Donovan’s weak attempt to start a spar and make it stronger. Bringing the ember to a steering, white-hot flame that might as well tickle Donovan from the inside and out. His words only encouraged him further and Donovan’s curled tail waves in hardly kindled excitement.

His eyes follow the coy as he begins pacing to the right, head level with a strong back Donovan hums pleasantly. “I’m down for any type of battle you might have in mind, dear.” Practically growling the pet name huskily from his throat, he wastes no more time.

It matter not which direction the raven furred coy faces, for the result will be the same. Donovan form, confident in his steps, nears the smaller’s rear, giving the plume of his tail a lively tug. A more jesting way to begin their suggestive dance. The stripped mutt gives a teasing glare in the coy’s direction as he goes on the defensive. Knowing his last attack could lead to him being open for some of Merrick’s own.