Raven's Watch rottning allra

For what seemed like forever, Valmúa had been stuck in a quarantine arranged by her delusional brother. Something had made him believe that she had been planning some kind of massive and ridiculously complex takeover of the Watch by use of matchmaking. In fact, the reasoning for her grounding was not important. What Stjornuati and Solpallur and Rokkvi had done, effectively, was clip her immense and fiery wings to something pathetic and foul.
Kigipigak now held no interest for her, refusing to interact with her the way he once had. Quickly and readily, the brothers had collectively turned the fire woman to an ashy dust of her former self. She had transformed with the snap of the proverbial finger from the fire woman to the poppy girl once more.
And she was fucking tired of it.
Kigipigak had whatever the fuck leeway he had, being the non-target and accessory to the offence. But she... she had lost the thing that @Stjornuati fucking knew was most precious to her. The thing he knew made her happy. She also knew very well the wrong that he saw, and any shitty pipe dream of what could be with her on top disappeared the moment that @Kigipigak left her side. She felt alone, and raw, and unloved.
The day was cold and clear when she sought out her brother. She sneered to herself as she went to him. She came to him to beg. She came to pledge allegiance, fully and surely, to his stupid, forceful power. She loved him. Dearly. The fire in her still burned and wanted, but she knew that what she wanted and what he was building could simply not coexist, and so she reneged on what she had told herself as a poppy girl long ago: you will be Queen of all.

Oh look, a border.  Look, Zane had noooo fuckin problem with borders.  Like, dude, keep your pretty little line and let him keep his (a whole lot prettier) neck in one piece.  No worries there.

Cept when that border came between him and a gorgeous piece of work like that over there.  Cue *low whistle*

Zane hesitated for maybe point 2 seconds before saying fuck it and jogging with blatant ease over the mark.  All's fair in love and war and Zane was in love with a golden redhead boasting a rockin bod.  Hey, you!  You got a name, honey?  Because I tell you, if it isn't Angel, it should be.  Hell yeah Zane buddy, ain't lost it yet.

-dying-

Her brother appeared to be out, or otherwise preoccupied. The poppy girl went to turn away to find something else to possibly amuse herself, thinking of the stash of mushrooms she had hidden away. It was then that she found an unfamiliar...
Her hackles raised. An unfamiliar scent in the air, close. Male.
Valmúa flipped around, startled by the sound of a male she did not know. He attempted to rehearse some kind of sexual advance toward her, she took a step forward to attack him, and then she stopped.
What could possibly bother her brother more than flirting with a random lone male within their borders? The fire woman saw an opportunity, and she took it. Her fur relaxed. She flicked an ear sideways, pretending to be annoyed. She thought playfully to herself, I could kill him. That wouldn't be nearly as fun.
It is rude to ask for a name without giving a name first, she said, but the way she said it didn't match the discipline of her statement. Her words were silky, burning, wanting. She stepped forward slowly, her tail raised completely in dominance, but the rest of her incredibly relaxed. Play my game.

At first Zane thought she was going to be all uptight on him.  That was fine, he figured himself a natural at getting ladies to relax.  Just give her a little bit with his handsomely rugged charm and she'd be swooning in no time.

Then she spoke and gave his horrible line of thought WAY too much credit.  Zane was immediately confused, then thrilled, then extremely encouraged.

You sure you can handle my name, babe?  How about I call you Angel and you call me Handsome?  Zane's face took on what he typically referred to as his 'melt' look, an expression equal parts confidence and interest that he'd practiced and perfected in the water at least a dozen times a week.  

He trained for this shit on the reg.  This chick was going to get the full experience.  Names don't matter when you really get down to it, and I plan on getting down with you.  Wink.

She wanted to pull his face off his stupid, brash head. Inwardly, a fire stoked and cracked and blazed angrily as he gave her a disgusting southern name. Inwardly she already had every cause she needed to tear him to pieces and chew on his worthless, stinking bones. Yet the only show of this was the calm, slow lick of her canine.
She looked at his stupid expression, and took a slow, sensual step forward, grinning slyly. My brother is going to kill you, and my punishment will be worth how funny it is. She thought cruel, dangerous things, funnelling them through the guise of sexuality as she drew nearer.
Is that so? She inhaled his scent. He stank. What gives you this hugmynd - this thinking that you are worthy to, she paused her approach, 'get down' with me?
Stjornuati was going to give her pain over this, but she didn't care. This was her game, and only she knew the rules.

He didn't know she was foreign.  Hot.

His danger senses should have been tingling as she came forward eagerly.  Normally girls like this didn't fall for his lines, but Zane's brain had obviously jumped out of the car at the last turn and hidden in the ditch.  Something else had it's foot on the pedal now and it was revving hard.

The lick of her teeth, the move of her hips.  Zane was entranced.  He'd already forgotten he'd crossed a boundary to get here.  Simple.  If you don't think it, then you aren't, and I never sell myself short.  His look grew more cocksure, and he took a step forward too, risking meeting her eyes with a look.  So, babe, am I right, or am I right?  His voice lowered with a slight brrl to it.  He used to be worse at this, but with age came experience (if not wisdom yet).  Who knew if that second would ever grace him with its presence.

The skíthaus had the confidence and vile foolishness to meet her eyes, which held the cold, cruel violence of a blade. The nameless one had a dull-witted golden stare, the sort of stare that had expectations and brashness beyond what she thought an experienced man was capable of.
Because of this audacity, she continued her game by holding his gaze hostage like a cat. She held him in a staring contest as she stepped closer again. So, babe, am I right, or am I right? Silky words drained like venom from a snake, you are something. Another lick of her teeth. The fur on her neck grazed his as she moved another step at an angle toward him. She could feel the heat from his body, and longed to tear into it. Right is not right word, maybe kjánalegur.

:grimace: He rollled a hit here

While they had not made an official claim on the watch, only a fool would scent so many wolves, so strong a scented border and still cross into it. Apparently, this equated in Valmua's head as acceptable, for from afar, he could see her entertaining the intruder rather than outright attacking him. The depths to which his sister stooped seemed to have no bounds, though the thought was brushed aside in favor of taking care of the situation himself.

He descended upon them like a stone in the still water of their lake, a bare-toothed, narrowed eyed helvítis hundur. There was no preamble, no warning, save the vicious snarl that erupted from his throat. He would plow into the fool, teeth seeking scruff in a bid to force him to the ground and keep him there until the fight left and only submission remained. His sister, he would take care of after.

As she held his eyes, Zane smiled in triumph.  His ego was stoked more and more.  He forgot where he was, forgot everything but her.  She was absolutely gorgeous, a knockout stunner with an accent and confidence.  He couldn't believe how well this was going.

Even his stupid senses sometimes got warning blips.  His came when she held his gaze a little too long.  Something in the back of his mind pinged at the expression he saw buried, but her tone was too much to resist.  He tensed, then began to shrug it off.

Just as some dude flattened his distracted ass like a freight train from behind.

Zane was an easy mark.  HOLY FUCK!  Was all he had time to get out before he was scruffed and pinned, flattened against the snow and forelegs scrabbling like a pinned chicken.  Whoa bro, everything's cool here.  He said hurriedly.  Shit, was this her guy now?!  What the hell?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dm2lBzm2AE

Stjornuati flew from nowhere, transformed from cool and collected to helvítis hundur. As he viciously bowled into the lone male, the man cursed while he was pinned. Valmúa inhaled a sudden breath in surprise, and then abruptly fell onto her side.
She exploded into racious, intense, snorting laughter. Her legs flailed about and she rolled from one side to the other, hyperventilating as her chest heaved with terrible, hysterical convulsions. It was ugly, and mean. She stood herself back up, snorting in half-breaths and half-laughs, watching the unnamed idiot struggle under her brother's weight.

The outcry fell to deafened ears, his grip on the boy's neck only tightening as limbs flailed and the body struggled. If he needed to, if it came to it, he would stain the white snows red with blood; the only reason he did not harm the trespasser further yet was because their claim was unofficial and Stjornuati was nothing if not a calculating fellow. To kill another before their claim was made real was to invite the ire of others, and who knew who this one pledged his allegiance to.

A gradual pressure was applied, slow, methodic, and threatening. As soon as movement stopped, whether by choice or by action, Stjornuati would stop but not before then.

Valmua was ignored entirely, for the moment.

Was this guy for real?  Zane twisted and shoved, but he was a lover, not a fighter.  And by that I mean he had 0 tone and a whole lot of mouth on him.  Stjornuati had him handily pinned right in front of the bitch, who was cackling away like some kind of demented turkey. Zane froze when he heard that.  He wasn't the brightest of wolves, but he could pick up on at least this much; Valmua had known this fucker would show up.

Look, bitch isn't even worth it.  I mean, d'you hear that?  She sounds like she swallowed a dying goose.  Zane shot off, freezing in place while the fur on his spine ridged up.  He was probably going to get his ass kicked for that one, but he wasn't about to beg his way out of here without getting at least something back.  Lay off, I'll scram.  He did at least still in his attempts to get free, hoping the guy would take pity on him and go after the she-devil who drug him in here anway.  If that was his girl, he should probably figure out what the fuck was wrong with her.

She couldn't stop laughing. Like a hyena on nitrous oxide, she wailed with horrendous cackling, curled over herself as though her insides might well fall out. At last she stood fully, just in time to hear the moron insult her, referring to her merely as "bitch." As it was designed, no doubt, the blabber stole the humour right from her face. Valmúa's expression transformed from maniacal she-devil to stony — her lip quivered.
She did not hesitate in rushing forward, mouth suddenly twisted into a vicious snarl. She leapt at the trespasser who claimed that she was not worthy, for even the poppy girl knew that he was no more than a worm graced with the presence of an elegant empress of the north. Valmúa grabbed for any flesh she could, regardless of whether her brother allowed him up or not. She went for his tender underside.

His sister was ignored, save for a single snap of teeth to warn her away from the trespasser. She had had her chance to correct him and she had not; whatever happened between them after this was done was her own fault.

To the boy, his snarl thundered. Leave, The command came, accompanied by teeth into his haunch to spurn him into movement, not pulling back to spare the blood lost. This mark he had earned and it would only get worse the longer he remained. He would only have the split-second chance to get up and run with his tail tucked between his legs before Stjornuati would descend upon him again.

Held down the way he was, there was no way Zane was avoiding either attack.  If she didn't redirect, both sets of teeth would meet their mark.

Crazy bitch... but Zane didn't have any time to do anything more.  There was no way he was dying for this girl, fuck her and this dude.  He tore away and took off, sprinting wildly in a random direction.  

Adrenaline would keep him careening for a while, at least until that wore off and the wound(s) caught up with him.

Feel free to determine how bad Valmua woulda gotten him! Last for me

Just a quick bite from Valmua! Broke the skin but nothing crazy @Zane

The fire woman got in a brief, nasty bite close to the stranger's underarm. She started to throw her head to shake him, but Stjor's teeth forced her to release him. The sister knew better than to challenge him on anything, especially since he lacked the context to know the extent of her game.
As the flirtatious moron flew off in a direction, Valmúa kept her head low, but eyed her brother's chest expectantly. He would punish her. She knew that he would not allow her to walk being their Watch for a time more. He seemed to like keeping a heavy chain across her, keeping her close to prevent further outrage in spite of her ability to drive him crazy at this proximity. Slyly, she grinned, pleased that she had won the game with the stranger. Whatever weeks worth of freedom was worth the taste of his blood on her snarky lips.