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She snorts chilly air out of her nostrils - well, at least he doesn't judge her for her verbal diarrhea! She has a tendency to speak before she thinks, and her razor edged tongue is usually gilded with brazen vulgarity. It is simply how she is. She doesn't mince her words, and social etiquette sometimes comes a distant second behind her ability to put her metaphorical foot in it. His words have her ears pricking forwards, standing erect atop her storm-tossed mane. One hoof paws the ground in anticipatory delight - a spar? With this handsome fellow? "I'll take you up on that," she says, and is there a certain husky hiss behind her voice? Sweaty, slapping flesh, ragged breaths, blood pouring from bay and grey skin alike...her tail swishes and Dominus gives a disapproving growl in her general direction. She loves fighting, and the idea of fighting with a particularly attractive man..."And who knows what prize you'll get if you manage to defeat me?" Don't say that! But it's too late - her tongue races in front of her brain, yet somehow she's not even sorry. Who knows what she'd do if he bested her? If he proved his strength, his dominance, his power over her, as all men should... She's damn near drooling at the thought of combining her beloved battle with something even more primal, and quickly shakes herself out of it. "Now?" she questions. Does he need time to prepare? Should they set a date? Her tense muscles twitch at the very thought, and her emotions sizzle down to her white lion, whose claws dig hard into the icy sod in bloodthirsty anticipation. |
Other characters have permission to use magic/violence against Nyx at any time.
