Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

a smirk, one that briefly showed the breadth of his glinting teeth. a cheshire grin for a brindle boy. "i'm a worthy opponent in everything," merrick boasted, for he knew that the bloodthirst in him could not be quelled. not by spars, not by violence, not by lust. and to each he applied himself wholly and with the mien of a man who had seen the underworld and feared it no more.
the bright, seething yellow of donovan's stare vied with the single leap of fire in merrick's own; they twisted into flame, and the witch was moved to laugh. "if it is a test you want," and he lengthened his step to pass his companion, and stand before him, "then i'll let you set our kind of battle." for there were more ways to strive against one another, and more than another to win.
he grinned upward toward the tall knight, tail lashing at his heels as he backed some feet away and awaited an answer.