Bearclaw Valley underground big
38 Posts
Ooc — Laur
Offline
#1
All Welcome 
Edit just to note that his happens before this thread

The tense, tumultuous climate a few days prior had quietened now into a familiar sort of calm; Astyanax much preferred this. Granted, he wasn't much aware of the danger that had come right up to their doorstep, how he and his brother had come so close to having their blood smeared across the den's walls, only to be protected by their as of yet nameless, mostly absent father.

So the boy made for the outside world, showing no caution as he waddled from the den's mouth and out into the open. It was a cloudy day, rain falling gently and causing the dirt to turn into water-logged mud. Astyanax wandered forward, disregarding the view as he focused intently on a stick poking out of a puddle, eager to reach it.
899 Posts
Ooc — mercury
Warrior
Deerstalker
Offline
#2
here laur have my other girl too

it is instinct, something innate. perhaps bred into her, or fostered by her quiet, sometimes-violent upbringing. wherever its origin, whenever it emerged, it is clear—Avicus wants. . .needs. . .to be the best. at all times.

without any inclination toward cruelty or schadenfreude, she surges forward as she sees the pup, her much-longer legs carrying her faster than he could dream of traveling at this age. she leans in and seizes the stick, pulling it triumphantly from the mud, sending a brown spatter across her chest and perhaps his.

as she had with the blood, she has again been anointed. she is the winner. she is best.

what's he gonna do about it?
but see, amid the mimic rout,
a crawling shape intrude —
a blood-red thing that writhes from out
the scenic solitude
38 Posts
Ooc — Laur
Offline
#3
Why they both so R00D??

Yet before he could reach it, another suddenly materialised before him to snatch the stick right out of the mud. The movement did indeed cause the sodden earth to splatter against both her fur and his own. Astyanax gave a snort as it hit his face, giving himself a rough, uncoordinated shake before focusing upon the girl who had stolen his quarry.

Oh, he recognised her! At least he thought he did. The vibrant fur stirred something within his memory, although there was no outward indication of this. The boy simply blinked twice at the other cub, then stared at the stick in her maw as the cogs in his mind slowly turned.

He then started forward in silent determination, trudging through the thick mud towards her.
899 Posts
Ooc — mercury
Warrior
Deerstalker
Offline
#4
he's a little stubby creature, looking much like Aventus (and herself) not so long ago. her eyes land mockingly on his short legs, and then she backs up, stick still clutched in her teeth. slosh-slosh through the mud, the gray-brown water painting her limbs up to the knees and hocks.

Avicus then extends the stick so that it is parallel from her body, paws moving in place, goading, teasing. she wiggles the branch, daring him: come and get it.

she hopes he'll be able to take it, so that she can pull and watch him land face-first in the dirt. that would be kind of amusing, she figures.
but see, amid the mimic rout,
a crawling shape intrude —
a blood-red thing that writhes from out
the scenic solitude
38 Posts
Ooc — Laur
Offline
#5
As he moves forward, she backs away in tandem, waving the stick about in a teasing manner. Astyanax tires quickly as he trudges through the mud, and he pauses for a moment to glance back at the den's mouth as if silently asking his mother and brother to help him. No one appears however; it is up to him to deal with the wicked girl himself.

With effort, he makes his way closer to the red one and his prize, releasing a soft, frustrated growl at both the difficult terrain and his uncooperative limbs. The branch sways before him temptingly, and without warning Astyanax suddenly leaps forward, jaws open wide in an attempt to catch it between his tiny teeth.
899 Posts
Ooc — mercury
Warrior
Deerstalker
Offline
#6
ha. bait taken. the boy grabs the stick successfully. she lets him have his fun for a few short moments. counting her heartbeats. . .uh-one, uh-two, uh-three— and then she yanks her head backwards, hoping that it generates enough force to knock the boy off his paws.

victory will not entirely be hers today, though. for in her wickedness, she loses her own footing, and slid in the mud. like someone trying to navigate a sudden banana peel on the floor, she scrambles but goes down. splashes into the muck, her russet pelt coated with an unattractive gray-brown.

her pride is gravely wounded. all she can hope for now is that the younger child falls with her.
but see, amid the mimic rout,
a crawling shape intrude —
a blood-red thing that writhes from out
the scenic solitude