Haunted Wood Excuse me while I hit that Woah

astara rallied for a second insult, her eyes glazed over in intensity. sparring (if it could be called that) had awoken something in the little blackbird, something that had not stirred since dragomir's plummet to death.

an excitement crawled over her, a pleasant hum to her blood that lifted her spirits and rekindled the dulled flame in her eyes. no, she would not kill him -- yet all the same a restless stirring rose in her heart.

easily enough, she tracked valour's circling -- and when he swung towards her she nimbly stepped aside with something akin to a cheeky smirk pressed to her features as she watched him stumble.

in a quick maneuver that surprised even herself, much the way a dagger slipped from a sleeve might startle an onlooker, astara swung her muzzle down. her teeth aimed for the boy's haunch as he stumbled, attempting to crudely nip his buttocks as he passed her by. as if to say whoops, you left that open! -- anything that might rile his temper, and cause him to make a mistake again.

pulling away, the blackbird readied herself anew -- and found herself quite enjoying this little game.