Redsand Canyon She said she needs proof

Setting: Evening — 20:22.
Weather: 82F, partly cloudy, slight breeze, sunset/twilight.
Location: Territory #3 - Dead Dragon Lake.
Tags: @Praimfaya

Donovan follows the stream that drifts into Warrior’s Heart all the way up to Dead Dragon Lake. Mesmerized by the arching formation of the crimson stone that rainbows over the water there. The sunset behind him taints the landscape an alluring pink. For a second he wonders why he followed the stream, then he remembers the boredom of having to wait for his wounds to heal.

So he saunters around and into the shallows of the lake. Boredom evident on his features as he paces aimlessly about the water. Hoping someone will save him from his wandering mind.

her exploration of the canyon, hoping to discover all it's hidden treasures buried in the redrock and sand, leads her to a freshwater lake today; upon stumbling across it all she could feel was a wave of relief. still, she finds herself missing the sure shelter of forest — for even sawtooth spire had forest for the wolves to dwell in and wasn't all raised rock. she thinks that she will never get the sand betwixt her toes all out; leaving her with a gritty feeling that she doesn't necessarily like. still, the sand is pliable beneath steps swallowing the worst of noise. if not for the soft hiss of shifting sand she might very well learn how to walk as silent as a ghost who's paws never touch the ground.

she tries to use it to teach herself stealth figuring in a battle situation any advantage she can give herself will help.

though praimfaya doesn't particularly expect to run into donovan she is nevertheless unsurprised to find him all the same, watching with unreadable frostbound gaze for a moment as he wads thru the lake's shallows. she hops down from the short ledge, letting the sand absorb her impact and moves nearer to the lake's bank with a grandmaster. in greeting, unable to help but think that the rank name is a bit supercilious but the same could easily be said for wanheda — the commander of death.

He’s pacing back and forth. He can easily say that he hasn’t been this bored for a while. Usually always finds something to do. Or someone. Though recently, especially with his wounds hasn’t been able to do much traveling. Which disappoints him to the max. 

Anyhow, when he hears the softest of thuds behind him he almost thinks it’s just a play of the wind in his ears. When he turns around though he sees the silvery shine of Praimfaya’s coat. The sun gleams pleasantly off of her off white pelt and the brightness of it almost hurts his eyes if he stares too long. A greeting of his title is her simple reply and Donovan cups his ears towards her as he’s turning around. His forever lingering smile returns to his maw and he knows he won’t be bored anymore.

“Praimfaya.” He greets back simply. “It’s nice to see you, dear. I’m intrigued by your interest to join. I even entertained the idea of you possibly being a spy. Though I can’t really pin that on you so quickly. I don’t know you or your previous pack that much to assume such things.”

dear. again, the term of endearment sets praimfaya on an edge she cannot explain. likely, she doesn't like them because she's not anyone's darling or dear. she is wanheda. she is ripa. she offers a blanched twitch of her lips that morphs into a snort of amusement when he states that he entertained the notion of her being a spy. she levels her frostbound gaze at donovan, careful not incite a challenge. i am a warrior. not a spy. even though infiltration, learning how they fought and operated was exactly why she was here, was exactly what caused her to be exiled from sagtannet. my previous pack are pacifists. i never meant to stay long anyway. a warrior needs a war, praimfaya says with a lofty shrug of her shoulders.

and hesitates. i got exiled for challenging my leader. she studies the grandmaster's face carefully for his reaction. stating such was a gamble, but then again, everything in her life was a gamble. as i said during my joining, he sent me on a task to chase a missing child that had been gone for long prior to my mission. it was a waste of my time and my talents. in a way, it hurts to talk about mahler so crassly. despite their differences and their inability, in the end, to see eye to eye there is a part of praimfaya that still respects the gargoyle. i felt his priorities did not lay where they should as a leader. if he wanted to be a father then he should've stepped down and focused on his family. i am young but i have experience in leading, she tells him matter-of-factly. i was groomed to be wanheda — commander of death — since the moment i was born. she admits, thinking briefly of blodreina and how her mother would view this all only to find that she doesn't know.

it ended with my exile. i ran into hela and she made a convincing argument. said the saints were warriors and i figured i didn't have anything to lose and that a place that suits my particular skill set might be good for me.

Roll here!

He listens to her speak and agrees with just about everything she has to say. Thick black ears cupped towards her, intently listening. A warrior needs a war. He couldn’t agree with her more. Then she speaks of her previous pack being pacifists — surely one of those packs that reply of kissing ass to keep the peace. Like Yuèlóng. He vaguely things. Maybe Seelie Court. He ponders again.

Then once sentence after another Donovan learns more of the silvery pelted shewolf. He’s glad she’s opening up to him, speaking of why she left her previous pack. The leader prioritizing his children instead of the entire pack he’s supposed to be leading. That’s why Donovan doesn’t plan on having pups for a long, long while.

He gives a curt smile, a genuinely friendly one. “I too have been born into the ways of the warrior. We’re glad to have you Praim, you’re going to be a fine asset to the team. I’m honored to have you.” He hums with a short bow of his head.

Then his rather sweet smile turns into something more challenging. “Now show me why they call you the Commander of Death. I don’t think I recall it from last time we spared.” He teases readying himself into a fighting stance.

After she confirms, or even if she denies, he’ll rush forward and barrel into her. Shoving a well muscled shoulder into her own to set off her balance. Surely she’d get his drift and quickly reciprocate the spar. No way she’d turn one down.

praimfaya watches closely out of an instinctual uncertainty of how he will respond; though she hadn't meant to directly challenge mahler it nevertheless was insubordination no matter how just her cause or indirect it was meant to be. many leaders didn't take too kindly to knowing there were members with known insubordination habits in their ranks but if donovan is perturbed by her words he does not show it. does not speak other than to assure her that she will be a good asset to the saints.

a challenge is presented to her then; a quest to find out why they call her commander of death — in truth she couldn't say, blodreina has called her that since she was born and she never got the opportunity to ask. before praimfaya can answer, can agree, he is lunging at her. she tries to dodge, to use her strong, sylph build to her advantage but he has the advantage of surprise and his shoulder clips her's all the same.

praimfaya's muscles act of their own accord then, sinew and brain fueled with adrenaline, she is swift to retaliate, aiming to twist the teetering of her weight into an advantage by pivoting and throwing her weight towards him, snapping her teeth at any exposed body part she could get ahold of.

Donovan’s attack wasn’t successful enough that Praimfaya’s was not. His shove does just as it’s intended and causes her quick reflexes to misfire. The teeth he sees quickly closing in on him miss by millimeters. He practically feels the wind of the force of her powerful bite. Oh yes, she’ll definitely be a good asset to the team.

So now he must retaliate. Spinning around her rear seems to be the closest thing to him. For after his bite, Donovan attempted to bounce past her. Now though, he shoots his head towards the ground, looking to take ahold of her ankle and trip the she wolf but it seems fate have different plans in mind and he misses his mark.

for someone so big, donovan is surprisingly quick. he circles around her in the moment it takes for her draw in a breath, tainted with adrenaline and excitement; keen frostbound gaze following his movements, mapping out his style. she pirouettes out of the yawning clutch of his teeth aiming for her ankle; swift on her feet. her intended move is a big risk without being as close as she'd like and she aims to rush her shoulder into his ribcage only to woefully miss her own mark.

Just after Donovan’s jaws snap at nothing but air near her hind leg, she too misses her the shove she plans to aim at his ribs. The silver furred wolf attempts to shove him. Perhaps to throw off his balance just as he’d done moments before her own attack.

Looking to reciprocate her move, he’s halting firmly in his place. Coming to a sliding halt with a plume of red dust that flies into the air around them. His jaws open wide, revealing sharp rows of fangs meant to rip apart flesh. Though he knows not to use them to their full potential when sparing, he won’t bite the shewolf hard enough to injure. When he goes in for his attack, his maw targets her scruff. Snatching up the looser flesh he shakes only hard enough to get his point across, making sure to not let any of his teeth puncture skin, he’ll hold onto her until she gives him a reason to let go.

her attack misses but donovan's does not. he is larger than her — unfortunate but if she could exploit his physical weaknesses it didn't have to be so. his teeth find purchase in her scruff and at first she twists this and that way, mostly testing his resistance. he tightens his hold; praimfaya, however, refuses to admit defeat. this spar isn't over. not as long as she is still standing. there is still a chance to maneuver this in her favor. so she bucks now, less concerned about the safety of her own flesh held prisoner betwixt his teeth and more concerned with jarring his jaw, forcing him to relinquish his grip upon her.

when she is free, she takes a steadying breath, giving a wide berth as she circles, rolls her shoulders and readies herself into a defensive fight stance once more; a boxer in the ring, fists held high to protect her face.

His hold on her is fading fast as she wildly thrashes about in an attempt to get him off. She throws caution to the wind, perhaps knowing he won’t bite down hard enough to actually prevent her from shaking him off. Still either way, he has to contemplate his next move. Even as she’s bounding away and gathering herself, he hardly gives her any time to rest before he’s on her again. 

Springing forward his jaws meet her shoulder. Giving her a solid punch that may or may not bring blood to the surface. A minor wound, nothing to be afraid of. Though he knows the attack could leave him vulnerable.

praimfaya takes a moment to realign herself; to prepare herself for the second round of their spar ...but that is all that is afforded to her. he rushes her soon after. praimfaya feels his teeth piercing the flesh of her shoulder; sharp, stinging and no doubt drawing blood. a low growl builds in her throat, her muzzle jerking forth to initiate her own attack. he's exposed and she doesn't give any time to retaliate again as she bites at his own shoulder; returning the favor in kind.

Donovan’s beginning to realize they could go on forever. This isn’t a real fight, so they aren’t using as much energy as they would if this were to get much more serious. He’s panting just a tad, cardio had never been his strong suit. Is there any point in going on until they’re dead? Not really. So as Praimfaya’s bite lands he sucks in a small breath at the pinch it gives him. He’s skidding to a halt and looking at the offended area. Craning his head down to lick a black tongue over the red pearls beginning to form. An eye for an eye — a pleasant and fair way to end the battle. Or so he thinks.

He nods his head at her, a simple tilting up of his chin. “Not bad, I think we could do this for hours, no?” He pants. “Though my cardio isn’t as good as it used to be, it seems you could probably do it longer.” He chuckles.

probably, praimfaya agrees with a lofty shrug of her shoulder, masking the twitch of pain the action brings to the broken skin; ignoring the stinging smart that lingers in the absence of teeth. so we'll call it a draw. for now, praimfaya is content with that. this is, after all, a spar. though she wonders if he would be so quick to draw were it a real spar. she tucks the consideration away. i'm not easy to beat and i'll go down fighting. she would fight to her last breath, if that was what it took. we'll have to spar again sometime. she says with a wag of her tail and a soft smile tugging at the edges of her lips. for now, i think i'll burn off the rest of my energy with a patrol.

He whispers out a short rumbling laugh and nods in agreement. He likes the way her strikingly silver eyes gaze up to him and the shine of her pelt. Contrasting brightly against the backdrop of the sandy drylands, he finds her more than pleasant to look at.

“If more serious spars or fights, so will I. I’m in a more casual mood today it seems.” He comments with a shrug, beaming a winning smile back at her.

The wag of her own tail only causes him to do the same. “I would love another spar, Praim.” He offers with a playful wink. “Don’t be afraid to call on me anytime. I’m honored to serve you as much as you serve me, dear.” 

Giving the shewolf a respectful tilt of his head he begins padding off agreeing with her last sentence. “Perhaps I will too.”