Moonspear campaign mode

@Drogon

Alya paused as she passed a peculiar scent on her patrol - Vaati's. She'd left it here as she'd crossed back into the territory after meeting with him. How sloppy of her. With a surruptitious glance around the area, Alya rubbed herself against the mark in an attempt to cover it up. The distinct scent of lust that had been mixed with it (and that had become Alya's special brand of perfume, lately) had been rather telling.

But soon enough, the scent was well enough disguised that she worried about it no longer. Besides - even if someone had found it (aside from her sisters, who knew about her liasons), what would they do? Alya was merely trying to save face.

Business concluded, she continued along on her patrol. The valley floor felt much safer with Vaati on their side. The dark wood seemed almost neutralized, and she wasn't worried about Redhawk aggression. If they came, she would meet them - Alya was no child.

The Sakaali patrols the borders in the interest of routine and partially to see if Vela’d listened to him on the subject of not patrolling them alone. Habitually, he doubts it. Vela doesn’t strike him as the kind of girl to listen to anyone except daddy dearest. It still strikes him as a little strange and way too clingy but he likes her despite himself. Drogon considers doing some more impromptu reconnaissance as he nears the end of his patrol, figuring he’d slip out of Moonspear for a few hours to investigate some new paths or explore a previously unexplored ( by him, at any rate ) part of a nearby territory as a familiar wanderlust itch settles just beneath his skin. Persistent enough to bug him and to assure him it wasn’t going to go away until he sought adventure. It is a familiar feeling: felt in the height of anticipation when he desires a good, rough n’ tumble spar.

His attention is snapped back to his patrol as he subconsciously ceases moving to bow his head and snuffle at the fresh scent that marked it. He simply knows that it is one of The Cerberus though which one is impossible to discern. His immediate assumption is that it’s Hydra ( if only because she is the triplet he is most familiar with ) and follows after her still fresh scent trail wondering if he finally had the opportunity to get revenge for the time she waylaid him on the borders because he’d told her he wasn’t afraid to fight dirty when they’d last discussed his lessons.

Alya glanced over her shoulder as the sound of another's approach. It was a pack scent, so she slowed her pace and shook out her pelt, the sudden motion making her more visibling among the trees that crowded Moonspear's base. The other bled out of the shadows and revealed himself to be Hydra's young apprentice.

"Hey - you," the dark woman greeted, floundering for a moment as she tried to recall the boy's name. It was silly for her to forget; Hydra talked about him often enough. Alya resolved to be more present, and to pay more attention to her packmates. This was getting just a little bit silly. "Drogon," she said at last, giving her tail an idle flick.

It was pretty obvious that she'd forgotten his name, so she tried to make up for that fact with a benign smile and her full attention - something that most could only strive to achieve. "On patrol?"

Drogon intends to go forth with his sneak attack but is brought up short when she notices him and flounders for his name. Drogon lets out an amused snort that is barely audible and cannot help the smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. “So not Hydra then,” She has told him as much in the slip of his name. He’s not upset that she doesn’t remember his name — he assumes he is not as significant to the other Cerberus as he is Hydra and as it stands out of the three she is the one he spends the most time with. He offers her a nod of confirmation when she finally remembers his name and offers her a small, beguiling smile and a wag of his tail. “The one and only.” In hindsight, since this sister was not the one he’d been hoping to come across he is glad that she spotted him before he could attempt to sneak attack her. That might’ve became awkward. “Just finishing up actually,” He admits with a slight roll of his shoulders. “You?” Though as he’d followed her scent here from the borders it is an easy assumption to make that she, too, was patrolling. Still, it seemed like the socially acceptable thing to do: ask it in return as per some unspoken law in regards to small talk. The spinesplitter is no diplomat, though, and stringing together words as artfully as a bard was not selkäjakaja's métier. Perhaps one day Drogon would create a bard mask to accompany his slowly expanding motley crew of masquerading masks but that is a consideration for another time. The Cerberus before him has kindly given him her rapt attention and it's only fair that he do the same.

"I thought you were Hydra," He admits freely, assuming that she would not be insulted. It was impossible to tell them apart on the best of days and likely it is something that the triplets are used to. "You almost got sneak attacked." Drogon chuckles in good nature because it would have been — would he have followed through — all in fun, after all.

I didn't realize he was sneak-attacking! I would've let him :o

"Alya," she supplied without offense. She'd spent her whole life being mistaken for her sisters, and - if it had ever occurred to her at all - it had been a very long time since she had thought it rude. Instead, she found Drogon rather charming, and in answer to his sweet, boyish smile, she offered a grin of her own. The one and only, he said. What a lonely life he must lead, without even regular siblings to play with.

"Mm," she agreed, bobbing her head as she turned back to the trail, assuming Drogon would walk beside her, now. "Not patrolling so much as freshening scent markers." Alya had come to believe that the true threats came from inside the territory. "But I'm just about done."

Her smile thinned somewhat as he mentioned his sneak-attack. Briefly, a cool, haughty look came into her eyes. Whether or he believed she was Hydra, she'd still detected his presence before he could launch his attack. That didn't sound anything like almost to her. "Is that so?" she said instead, expression falling back into easy friendliness with a side of superiority.

Ayla is the name that she offers the Ansbjørn, and he cannot help but wonder if it is ever bothersome to always being thought to be one of your sisters. Drogon remembers enough to know that he looks like his mother but is far too masculine to be mistaken as the nightingale queen. She bobs her head as Drogon moves to her side so that the pair are in relative step. Drogon slows his pace to keep it as even with her’s as he can, giving a grim nod when she says that she was refreshing scent markers in lieu of actual patrolling. He takes a moment to assess her out of the corner of his eye, still unable to tell any difference between her and Hydra and he wonders if his crush on Hydra would bleed to her sisters. It seemed logical, after all, especially since he was always getting them confused. Or, more-so, was in the habit of confusing Lyra and Ayla with Hydra as he had done here. “Well,” Drogon amended with a beguiling smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. “maybe not almost. A sneak attack had been the plan, at least.” He corrected himself with a chuckle that rumbles in his chest. “I owe her for a sneak attack she got me with once.” Drogon offers to Ayla in explanation though she has not asked for it. Some time has passed since that day but revenge was best served cold …or better thought out, at least; and this hiccup gives him more time to plan it better because it would be embarrassing if Hydra caught him before he could follow through with his ‘sneak attack’ as Ayla had ( because the former was his mentor after all ).

Her opinion of Drogon rose somewhat as he laughed off her implication. He was using humorous self-deprecation on her, she realized. Huh. It works, she thought to herself, painted a smile that was almost maternal (if not for the hint of insideous mischief that she could not seem to shake) across her pretty face.

"You might've surprised me still," she offered, "I was not expecting an attack."

She found herself willing to admit to this in order to give praise to the boy; there was something she found inherently likeable about him. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Hydra thought well enough of him to take him on as an apprentice. (Alya found herself considering it might be worthwhile to take on an apprentice of her own.) Perhaps it was simply his own magnetic charm. Either way - "We should practice. Maybe it'll help you to spar with someone a bit like her, but less... frightening," said Alya, giving Drogon a smile that was not meant to be bloodthirsty or flirtatious, but ended up being both.

at her praise he accepts it with a wily grin and a lofty rise and fall of his shoulders in an errant shrug. perhaps he could have surprised her but he'd let the moment drop when she acknowledged him. it just meant he'd have to work on his stealth a bit more. he was big and being able to move like a shadow was not something he'd be able to do without work. "hmm," the thoughtful sound rumbles in his chest. "i'll work on my stealth so that next time — if there is a next time," drogon adds quickly in an attempt to leave it a mystery for the next time their paths cross in a manner that stealth was possible. "— you won't even see me coming." the leijona partially jests.

swarthy ears cup forth as she suggests that they practice. drogon's glacial gaze slides over her once more — she is still identical to hydra, he deduces — and he takes in her smile that is partially bloodthirsty and partially flirtatious. "alright," the ansbjørn nearly purrs in invitation because he'd never turn down a chance to spar. he's addicted to the thrill of sparring, even if it is just mock battle. but it is what the tundrian expressly excels at and he's always seeking to improve on and/or impress with his skills.

erk. Sorry for the wait and probably a crappy post. I'm not great at fight scenes, but I want Alya to have more experience.

As soon as Drogon gave confirmation, Alya lowered herself into a brief, playful bow. A tiny smirk remained on her face as she righted herself, but slipped away as soon as she stood ready once more. The woman began to circle around the younger male, waiting to see if he would attack first.

"Don't be shy," she encouraged, eyes sharp upon the younger wolf. He was not her brother, and although Hydra thought well of him, she did not yet trust him to keep the fight clean. Not even she planned to play it entirely fair, after all.