A twig snaps, a breath labors, and brush rushes from its place. Immediately the heart within the golden jumps, pounding in his throat. But this was not a flighty fleeting patter of fear. No, it was strong, slow and steady. Like a deep war drum echoing in the depths of the darkness. Its hum sliding up and down his spine, shivering all his nerves into awakening. Yet while the wolf breaths deep, the cloak over him does not change. The rosen figure stands still as ever, only now the delicate ears have locked onto the sound of a charging beast coming through the brush.

A shout roars across the small field. The rosen coat flinches, but only as it was told to do. The rest stays still, head down, and eyes closed away. Only ears should any sign of paying attention as they locked on the target. Fear may not be seeping in his blood, but the adrenaline, its cousin was. That beast must be huge. He felt the earth shake, and the booming voice. This surely could not just be a tiger. How desperately he wished for a peak, but he would not do so just yet.

The beast circles, cursing at the standing form. Oh. A rub marks the golden’s plan. When he had come Hotaru had been standing, but only because she looked for him. Damn. Well nothing to correct it now. The golden was not as much of a fool as you might think. He knew something would be suspected. His powers may hold him silent and invisible, but there are still hoofprints and scents. Yet, he had hoped for a calmer opening. It wasn’t that he thought suspicion wouldn’t come, only he had hoped for more time. You see, it wasn’t about a quick end, or a sudden rush. It was about time. Buying Hotaru time.

The still hidden to her beast challenges the rosen figure, which still has not moved, and it took great skill not to let the Cheshire grin rise on the lips of the girl. Great skill indeed to keep it from welling there where it was born to be. Waiting, waiting, the rosen figure stood.

The beast’s dark booming laughter echoes deep within the white washed ears, and the signal was given at last. Two toned eyes awoke. They did so slowly, with a seeming drowsiness, and the head still did not raise or move. Yet those eyes and ears still followed him. What they find, the final image given to this faceless fear of the rosen, does not comfort him. It was a beast. Massive, and built solid it did take effort not to move away. He was not afraid mind you, but his natural instincts cried for more distance from such a predator. No wonder the rosen lady was such a hot mess. He was coming to realize, despite his new strength, trick, and bravado, that he might become one as well.

A thought was born then, that hadn’t occurred before….what called this tiger to the rosen girl’s blood? The creature was moving, and the question was left for another time.

Then it comes, as the echo of a growl. The start of it all. Mood soured, he had hoped for more taunting, more time. He had hoped to avoid having to act out this part, but it helped to feel still the weight of his blade still in his hand. This he must do, and it would make the reveal all the more sweet. Or so he promised himself. Enough though. It was time. Now at last the girl moves. Her head straightens up but only slightly to gain balance. He comes from the ‘good’ side, and the golden within is ready. His mind whirling fast with the calculations and anticipations. Muscles tense in readiness to make the movement.

Impact. And the rosen lets herself take it. The body was already leaning away, the joints already unlocked, so that when the tiger lunged, the figurine was like paper. Giving way without resistance. Shock of the impact his the golden’s shoulder but it was like it was too late. It hit, to be sure, as the pain of muscle on muscle and bone on bone told him, but it was a poke, in what should have been a punch.

The rosen figure staggers sideways from the hit, and legs jumble in a mess. Face clinches up in pain, and breath gasps tight to her. Yet she stands, wavering, and appearing only barely hanging on, she stays up. The golden lets the breath labor, and the pain and tension ripple across the sheep’s coat. Time, more time. With face tight with pain the rosen girl looks to her attacker. The breath labors, but carries the girl’s sweet yet sour tones. “Jealous?” Then it turns cold, mimicking the dark mood swings that had taken the golden by such surprise before. “Bite me.”

It was a gamble, prolonging this game. Every hit willingly taken bought time, but also took away the edge the golden had. He could not hold it long, yet the moment made his dark heart sizzle and crackle with anticipation, and the hand on the hidden blade gripped tighter.


OOC ::
"Speech"