Stavanger Bay Really bad eggs.

He'd gone out in to the water again, soaking in a shallow section while the tide was coming in, and when he sought out the shore Firefly felt heavy and tired, but better. It was good to have the brine scent back; he hadn't realized how desperate he had been for it, or the familiarity of the seaside. The expanse he had conquered was different from Rusalka too — a larger territory with a dense forest and more to investigate, more to protect. He knew he had to get back to work removing the ex-leader's scent from the borderlands but he was lured to a patch of dry stone a short climb along the ridge. It was hot to the touch, which he promptly sprawled across. While the spring light warmed his dark coat and dried him, Firefly could peer over the edge at the rough waters — and after a thought, turned to glance east, as if he would be able to spy upon Rusalka despite the immense distance. His heart felt heavy at that thought, so he turned back to the sea instead.

---

It is already too late to swim when the water reaches your lips.

---

She had watched over from the peak where she had strolled with Ford once before. The same knoll of sanded land, suffocated by absence and drowning in the solitude from the crashing of the sea, below. It was a coastly day, one to be shared with the azure waves, yet the Swan found no peace in these absent lands. She had met none other than Hogo in this place she served- and Elixir had vanished eons prior. Ford was the only soul she craved to see once again, but his trail had gone cold as it neared the dense wreaths and brushels of forestry beyond- that was far enough where his own scentings did not permeate. Safety would forseake her, and who was to say she too would not end up as her Emperor had?

A dapple of darker hues singled freely to the crystalline waters, edged in a golden fire of neckline and collar. They stood fearlessly in the sea, strongly suggesting to the warrioress that they would not quake if the Blue should decide to swallow them right then and there. Her curiosity engulfed her and before long, she flew free from the knoll in swift and careful steps. Down the side of the plane above, and grounded eventually upon the wet and squished land. Soon, grass too did not dare tread where her pale paws daringly stalked, and she was left alone to face whomever this contemplating spirit was. 

Her reserved speech was saved for Ford, and feeling as though it was her who had been here the longest, who hadn’t seen this man until his appearance today, her lack of regard for title was a challenge in it’s own gall. Her voice was strong, that of a woman from no fear, and though her stature was quick null to the bulk of the wolf within the waves, she carried herself twicefold in mind. 

“If it is peace you seek, none will be found within these lands.” 

Her body halted, sleek and queer in pattern, ivory and cream majority with an obsidian and blue tinted cape sliding graceful against her spine. The same darkly sheen tipped her ears, the same auds that were primely focused on the soul before her. Sapphires struck to his body, one too of strange patterning, and she wondered if he heralded his own legacy in further lands, as she had, once. The lap of waves pulled her assessing free and she spoke again, hoping she would be able to draw him in close enough to bypass the saline air, to taste the scents that lie upon his own hide,

to see if he had had anything to do with her Emperor’s disappearance. 

“But if it is not peace, what brings you to this place?”

---

Not all birds have been taught to fly. Some simply fall until they either learn, or perish.

---

The water continued to do as it had always done - working across the coastline, battering the stones that stood like jagged teeth along the less hospitable sand bars, coaxed close to the shore where it could soak in to his limbs. Most of the work had been done by Dalia; she'd tended his bleeding shoulder and battered ribs, and he was not yet deep enough to lose layers of her medicine. When his thoughts grew heavier than the brine-soaked pelt he carried, Firefly moved back from the sea. He lurched to the shore and tread slowly, like a tired old lion, to a dry patch where the sun could warm him.

He had barely made landfall when a voice drifted his way; Firefly grew tense upon first hearing it, before the words made sense to him, but afterwards he wondered if the stranger was warning him or threatening him. He perused his surroundings and found her pale shape drifting closer, almost silent upon the sand. He cannot help the thin smirk that crawls across his knotted face when she speaks next — seeking answers, but who is she, and why should he speak of his motivations?

It doesn't matter, he counters, and his smirk turns in to a more emphatic sneer as he watches her - looks her over brazenly, as if he can think of other uses for that fine body, that questioning mouth. I'm here now and I am the boss, that is enough.

Her face visibly hardened at his words, her defiance clear as her gaze was fathomless. There she brought her narrow chest to boldly stick outwards as she regarded this outsider with much more refusal than any subordinate could dream of defying with. 

“Who are you to claim such right? You have no stake here, and I have laid here a many nights, none of them twinkling a star upon you.”  

She would not submit to such a brash and bold spirit who claimed this Rift- Ford was who’s cologne she wore as her sigil. Not whoever this outrider was. It was he who held this Rift in calm clutches, with cunning and logic. Whoever this stranger was tended to be the complete opposite, and birds knew snakes instinctively.
A serpent stood before her. 

“Show me you are worthy enough to claim this land, and you will have no protest.” Her cape flared behind her, a vibrant and threatening expanse of sea on her own back, ruffled and shimmering. Her limber body stood waiting and ready to test the mettle of this egotistical spirit before her. 

And determination brought ferocious life to those deep azure eyes. She would not back down from him. She needed proof. 

He had always been prone to an inflated ego and that stood true now, as she began to slice at him with her words and he, amused by her struggle, lifted his posture further as he strut; but he did listen, and he did find her request - no, her demand, to be utterly ridiculous. The man huffed and his face split in to a deeper grin, flashing his front teeth as a subtle warning that she should be careful of what she spoke.

I am worthy. I have bested your leader and sent him crawling from the bay. That alone is enough to prove my strength, or it would have been enough in Rusalka, but the rules of one coastal claim did not seem to apply in a universal sense. She was bold to test him. Her arrogance reminded Firefly of Rosalyn and he sobered at the thought. Who was this woman? Had he been a more foul beast, a creature of ill character, maybe he would have lashed out and brought her to heel with his teeth.

Instead he observed her a moment and with an air of comedy to his voice, he queried: What would you suggest? I could track down your dethroned king and make sure he did not return. Or I could fight you, and as he mentions this he lurches towards her, crowding close, but otherwise not touching. If you think you can win the power back. I see no other options, woman. He thought of their bodies entwined in battle and imagined how useless such an event would be; it would certainly not win him any favors, which is why he mostly spoke in jest.

A gasp left her lips, evil seeming to spread vilely from the mouth of this stranger. She couldn’t believe it, and a stagger drew one of her hinds back as her mind itself wished to free of the situation. It couldn’t be-

“It was you...” the reality had come to make it clear with the details he had provided. The rest had come from those damning lips, an offer to finish the job- panic leapt into her throat so intensely the Swan near suffocated. Her eyes widened, scattering sapphires at this. And to hear he had taken down Ford...after all he had shown her... it would seem suicidal to try fighting him. 

But she had sworn to Ford she would remain his warrior, to fight in his honor, to salvage whatever glory he had worked for himself in this now blooded land. 
Her heart and mind hardened against the possible outcomes of this foolish decision- 
She could very well perish. 

Narrowing her resilient stare at the gold flecked man, she threw her life on the line. There was no bowing to a man who had not claimed her respect, nor her word. 

“Then so it shall be.”

And there she stood, flashing her banner that turned upwards with every whip.

By now Firefly thought word would've spread that they had a new king to bow to, but that was not the case. Perhaps they were spread thinner across the bay than he initially imagined; but whatever the case, she knew now. The shock and subsequent shifting of emotions played across her features as she looked at him as if in horror, which he shouldn't have found so appealing, yet he couldn't help but feel empowered by her reaction.

Her manner of speaking was curious to him - not that there was time to study it. She lifted her tail and took on a more dominant posture in defiance of his claim, more overt than her questions and transforming this strained conversation in to a proper challenge. He knew how he wanted to react: to strike her down and draw her blood, do away with this useless body if it could not obey him. There was a subtle narrowing of his eyes as he drew back from her a half-step, giving her back some space, but he said nothing, did nothing.

Look at me. He commanded this of her - although neither wolf had looked away from the other since this encounter began - and he snorted, I've been through worse than a woman's little tantrum. Calm down before you hurt yourself.

Really, he was saving her. Rescuing the damsel from the danger of his own teeth; preventing her from harming her pretty little head or screwing up whatever reputation she may have built as one of the bay's warriors. If this was the best they could offer (aside from the pair that had so violently protested his arrival a day ago) then maybe it wasn't worth the effort in conquering. Firefly watched her for a breath and gradually began to sneer, lowering his head just so his throat was protected.

Last chance — back down.

His words echoed through the silence which engulfed her, and with it, the flashes of blood on the sanded gull, of the disheveled dunes, of the fading scent of her Emperor. Her legacy too, the herald she had brought from home, her namesake, and her trust in the man whom this villain had brought to kneel. She would show how her family had earned their wisdom and namesake. 
And she would make sure this man remembered it, well. 

With an arc of her slender neck, she brought her crown up, exposing her neck, and side glancing him with heat filling her whole. 

“Make me.”

Nearly sprouting wings herself, she was off. Water curled around her in playful trails, disorienting orbs and waves alive, as the sea showed clear favor of her. Like the sea born that she was, the Blue Swan darted through the last splash of wave, and struck, ivory daggers slashing through the blue with such sudden contrast that she was near invisible until she was upon The Enemy. However once she had brought slim jaws to snatch and pull on the chosen shoulder, the water had returned back to the sea, and thus she pulled back, flitting a safe distance away.

She disobeyed him, which he expected, but what Firefly did not anticipate was the force of her will or the speed with which she implimented it. No sooner had she voiced her counter to his command did she lunge for him; he thought he would be fine, that he could withstand any assault the female made — but she lanced at his injured shoulder with a burst of practiced speed, and he let loose a deep snarl as the pain shot through him. Firefly twisted and lunged with his own counter-attack but the woman had already reset to a fresh position, watching him miss his attempted strike with quite a gap between them.

He was a fast learner. He wouldn't let her get many more hits in — but Firefly might not have a choice considering how poorly his puppet master was rolling the god damned dice.

She watched how swiftly he reacted to her connection, and gauged his weakness all the same. The tyrant seemed to favor that shoulder, and his reaction time to how her assault played out showed exactly how she needed to play this out- carefully. 

The water was where she was most comfortable, and rather than trying to goad him to land, she remained where her waterfowl-persona mindset kept her. Imagining herself extending a wing, thick and streamline, she used her left forelimb to lower Firelfly’s accuracy and defense by splashing  the salty water in his eyes. It wouldn’t do much as far as hurting him, yet the sting of brine was no laughing matter. 

His disorientation was what she counted on, and so long as she could incapacitate the swaggering snake, she could find Ford and restore him.

She moved against him again, and he anticipated more teeth and so he brandished his - only to feel the cold water slap across his face with one of her swift kicks, drowning his vision. The sting of brine was enough to make him pause and draw back a step, to duck and weave instinctively; but he snarled too, tasting the sea water on his tongue and blinking rapidly to clear his vision. She came for him in that moment of weakness — knowing just how to exploit the moment — veering in to his near-blind side and striking at him with incredibly vicious finesse. He could do nothing to counter her. Even if he could, Firefly was too slow.

Indeed. After seeing her diversion efficiently stun him, she made her moves quick- submerging the majority of her narrow chest in the blue, the Swan kept her movement eased with that of the oncoming waves, simply so he could not pinpoint her location so easily. With his flailing, he was shutting out any sound of splashing she herself had made, and near enough, she promised fangs to his hocks, snapping shut on one, only to release and snap at the other. Of course the second he whirled around, she was already gone.

She was a crafty bitch; he couldn't help the vitriol that bubbled up within him as she assailed him, and he was made a fool with her tactics. He thought himself a warrior; he saw himself as a man of means and power, having bested most of Rusalka prior to this endeavor, and to be harassed in this sly manner from the seaside by a woman was almost too much for Firefly's ego to handle. 

He succumbed to his rage in fits. Spinning and vying with a plunge of teeth through the waves for the woman's face — only to swallow a mouthful of brine and be left gagging, spinning again, failing, spinning — soon he could taste the sharp metallic flavor of his blood within the water. He twisted again and again but each time he missed, each time growing further infuriated, lending the warrior woman with many openings.

He whipped and whirled like a madman, a typhoon in the waters as he stirred them ceaselessly. In his spunk and vivid spiral, her next attack hit, yet came with cost. Her aim was for his flank, but with over anticipation she misjudged her jaws spot of landing. She ended up snapping and holding only his tail, and his livid fury was not too far behind as she was milliseconds late to let go.

That tiny screw-up with timing was a boon to the man, who saw the opportunity to grab at his opponent and really throttle them. He let loose a roar as he bore down upon her; grabbing at her as he wrenched himself in to a crescent to defiantly pull free of her own grip. As soon as he made contact Firefly used his momentum to thrust her out of the water and on to the land, driving her against the dirt.

He could feel the stinging of his lacerated hocks but ignored it as best he could, swaggering from the shallows as he fought against her body; he felt superior for that instant, his dark shape a monolith rising from the sea as if it truly was his own dominion.

Her consequence came fast and hard- she was heaved airborn and away from the protective embrace of the waters, landing with a hard and suffering thump on hardened wet sand. A gasp left her and a wheeze came back as she felt her weight sift unfavoriting to her chest. 

Before she could find her calibration, she watched him stride from the waters, evil intent written all over his features, and most noticeable in his eyes. Several curses slipped through slender lips as she fought to regain her footing and throw herself into a sprint, kicking up as much sand as she could at her enemy as she headed to the cliffs.
Chest heaving, she took off, trying her hardest to ignore the feeling of something broken in her.

He should have let her run off, taken the victory as it was and settled the hell down. She had tried to prove something of herself - something of him - and failed. But the man was too riled up now. The rise of his adrenaline worked in tandem with his anger. He watched as the woman tried to find purchase on the sand, kicking up dust as she flew for an escape route along paths familiar to herself, and Firefly had to duck from the wave of grit that came close to blinding him; he knew better than the give chase right off the bat. This bitch liked to throw curve balls — she moved swiftly and with tricks up her proverbial sleeve.

The warrior only got so far before the shadow chose to pursue. He would not let this woman win; he had reached his limit of her kind, and would not relent until he'd punished her for rising up against him in such a way. Stranger or not, guardian of the rift or not, subordinate or not — she was a woman and she would be taught her place. Firefly huffed and puffed as he climbed after her along the ridge and as he got nearer to her position, reached and snapped at her hocks, eager to break those pretty little legs as retribution for the damage she had done to him.

He was catching up, and he was catching up swiftly. It was the heat of his breath on her ankles that spurned her speed, now running on desperation than plan. But that plan had not faded, no matter how laced with need it was. 
 A sudden stop was all she could whim on the man, grounding forelimbs in rocken sand and forcing her body backwards in some outlandish and low bucking kick- hoping to stall him and lower his momentum, cease his speed somehow, as she found some help upon the ridge of this damned cliff- surely someone could help her- where was Elixir? Hogo? Ford? Where was this brother of his? Where was anybody!!?

Onward the Swan flew, praying to her ancestors that her end was not at the paws of a monster. 

He bore down on her position, egged on by the thought that he just needed to be a little closer, and soon fell upon her with the intent to do real harm. This wasn't just a spar; it hadn't been anything so simple from the start, and now that Firefly was able to reach her and grab at her with his teeth, heft his weight against her to try and slow her down or stop her, he felt bold and confident in himself. She would get what was owed to her: she would learn never to underestimate a man again, especially him. No woman would ever rise against Firefly without a proper lashing in return — the man had enough. He would strip her of her power and she would be cowed, returned to the natural state of being beneath him.

He lunged, slamming against her, eager to sink his teeth in to her and pin her down — perhaps do more, but even he was not that kind of vile — and soon could be heard laughing through his breathy gasps, You stupid bitch, you thought you could fight me and take my crown? But he knew deep down that was not the intent; he was fooling himself in thinking he was so important, that she might be after his rank. Manipulated by his emotions and whatever corruption had been festering inside.

Firefly had somehow crossed over to the dark side - and he wasn't going to play nice about it.

He hadn’t gotten more than a face-full of paw pad before he barreled into her, running her over as though she were roadkill. However roadkill was ran over and left- he stayed atop her after quite literally yanking her extended hind back and dragging her toward tormentuous jaws. Her heart beat frantically, the bird looking into the jaws of of a voracious snake. It was clear he had poison to inject before he finished her off. Her right flank stung, and her breathing was labored, hot, and coming out in a way that was harsh upon those who heard. After he had dragged her, something had infact pained her chest, and a slight dribble of blood mixed with saliva, turning a clear insight to something within her being damaged. 

Jaws open, panting for her life, she turned an exhausted face up to the monologuing beast, and took a deep inhale-

then proceeded to hack bloody spit at the devil. The second she witnessed him turn to avoid another thing being launched at his sight, she threw herself back upon her fours.

‘If I am to perish,’ she though darkly. 

‘Then it will be where I had first encountered the rightful ruler of this cursed place.’

And atop the plateau she aimed to be.

Firefly had never murdered anyone, and liked to think of himself as too level-headed to do anything of the sort.

He'd fought his enemies, he'd fought his friends, he'd fought against the dangerous beasts of the wild, and came out of all of it with scars to his body to match — but there wasn't a single piece of him that thought he'd been changed in a deeper and more profound way by all of that violence. The trauma of his evisceration by the cougar was far behind him. The battle upon the Dragedan cliffside was in the past too; the struggles of keeping his rank and power were freshest in his mind, but even with his dethroning by Vaati and the inherent chaos of Rusalka's women, he never thought to harm them in any meaningful way. He certainly never entertained the thought of murdering Rosalyn — but something had changed in him, darkened him, spoiled him from the inside-out.

The man was not in a rational frame of mind; in fact, it would be hard for him to ever look back upon this moment with any clarity, not knowing the purpose for his anger or his hostility towards the stranger. Perhaps it helped that the bird was so foreign to him — he could place her in an other category, distance himself further from the events here, and allow the darkness to rise from his depths like his own personal storm surge. She was the unfortunate target of many months of building rage; of his deepest feelings of guilt; his seething self-loathing given a womanly face that he could break in to pieces, because who would care? She was a nobody to him — a flea on his back. A wretched creature trying to take the last vestiges of his ill-gotten power away, a typical woman.

As the warrior fled before Firefly there was a moment of silence inside of his head - like the prickling of static - and then he bellowed a lion-like roar that carried across the stonescape, and lunged for her.

Limping to the top of the cliffside, the rolling waves crashed angrily against the mess of rock and jagged slopes it had carved into the stone. Almost as though it was vehement at Firefly’s behavior towards one of its most favored. Brine crested over them in tiny droplets, bringing fresh ire to open wounds and dazed eyes alike. Today had gone downhill, but atleast Akira had answers- 
atleast she could rest. 

But the Tibetan could not simply lay down and take death willingly from this monster. That was no worthy sacrifice. She would fight until her last breath. The telltale roar of this unhinged man shook her to her core, and with pantheresque power, he threw himself at her, to which she barely dodged with any real style. He had pummeled her, weakened her already awful defense. 

But she would not lay down.

The way she moved infuriated him - not because she escaped his grasp at the last second, but the fact that she wouldn't stop fighting back, she wouldn't let him have this win so easily — he snapped uselessly after her, moving closer like some kind of creature possessed. The woman did not parry his advances; there was no need, the violence had overtaken him and he was a frenzied mass of inexact flailing. 

It didn't matter. Even if he had been focused on the task of taking her apart, he would've been slow and deliberate about it. Taken his revenge with every strip of flesh torn from her — idealizing the carnage so that he could remember it always. A cut for each slight her sex had ever made to him. A pound of flesh for Rosalyn; a strip of hide for each woman he'd ever bedded; she even boasted a pale coat like the man who had pinned him to the sand — and the thought inspired a more sinister craving that he had no name for. The rest of her would be picked clean by the vultures of the crags but somewhere amidst this chaos, he would find a piece and keep it hidden for himself.

Something to remind him of the conquest.

But none of that could happen — he was too basic in his rage. Reduced to scrambling after her and struggling to get what he wanted, again, and again, but failing at every turn.

Another attempt at freeing herself from the grinding and slavering jaws of the hellish man, a man seemingly so incoherent that he near appeared to have rabies contracted. And in her mistake of taking precious seconds to turn and look at her, there a swift and painful clamp upon her left flank. Without having a spare moment to figure out her plan, her cry of pain was swift and urgent, and lips unsheathed smaller but sharper jaws to seat heavily against his face. Anything to get him to release her, even if all she could grab was an ear! An eye! A cheek! 

Anything!

As he finally made contact Firefly felt the satisfying slice of his teeth through flesh; he pulled, throat filling with blood that gurgled out of the corners of his mouth and between his teeth, and released as the woman set her sights on survival and began to retaliate with more fervor.

For a few moments they parried jaws; blood smearing between the two of them like some kind of purposeful ritual. Would the blood satiate the beast, send it back to the void from whence it came? Unlikely. The woman's teeth cut through his flesh next, sharp and quick and desperate, and he was temporarily driven back.