EREBOS

[Continued from here.]
 
Spars had always been tests for him. He tested himself to see how far he’d come, how far he still had to go, to pursue strength, to become devoted to power, to avenge fallen comrades. He tested his opponent, to see how far they’d ascended into dominance, to try and puzzle over an enemy’s abilities, to wonder, to pry, to glance at the finesse of warfare.
 
But he’d never battled a friend.
 
How far was he supposed to go? How much was too much? Did he really intend to mark his companion in blood? Did he seek to destroy the other, like he’d done to Ashamin (he’d hadn’t known it was him, down deep in the labyrinth’s gutters)?
 
This was Rikyn, his brother in arms, mountains, peaks, and valleys. No matter how far he traversed, no matter which crusades he chose, the prince always cherished the Engineer’s son.
 
A part of him was nervous, obliging, but still anxious about the notion. What if he hurt him? What if he went too far, ran his blade down the length of Rikyn’s larger frame, peeled him away, sinew and marrow and flesh, on a spit of anger? On a twist of doubt? On a taste of revolution and rebellion? On a hint of jealousy?
 
What would Rikyn do as they combatted? Would he seek to obliterate Erebos as the skirmish waged on, as they fought for namesakes, for titles, for who was better than the other? Would they compare, size each other up, for pending endeavors? For who would lead the way in ruling the world?
 
The questions hung in the air, tense and apprehensive, pooling along his veins and movements as he maneuvered in the cavern haze, in between hollows of shadow and plains of magma light. His motions echoed upon stones and resounded off the walls, being sneaky, being stealthy, was not in today’s cards. Orsino, on the other hand, took advantage of the poor illumination, settling into a pocket of darkness until he was necessary.
 
Go, boy!, the fox dictated through their connection, incapable of understanding the unease and concern Erebos had for the other. He hadn’t cared too much about the others, even those carrying the same icy banners. They’d plagued and fought, crawled and slithered, kicked and bit until each was torn and bloody.
 
None of them were Rikyn, he funneled through the bond, and the sable kitsune grew silent.
 
His opponent was bigger, well-muscled, amassed in brawn from days of adventures and wandering; there wouldn’t be an opportunity to shove him into a wall like he’d done with Rexanna, to brush and force him away, back into dungeons and catacombs. In measures, in depths of control, the youth merely attempted to reach across the void on a swift stride, trying to approach Rikyn’s left shoulder on a whim, extending his cranium in hopes of biting, nipping, slowly, carefully, on bits of flesh and pelt.
 
An eager, fervent portion of him prayed this wouldn’t tear them apart.



[Erebos vs. Rikyn Teaching Spar.
1/3. 500 words.
Setting: Continued from http://helovia.net/showthread.php?tid=23479
In Heart Caves, along towards the opening. Near the burning fire pit.
* I started because it seemed right? ;D
* Erebos attempts to come at Rikyn’s left shoulder, biting towards it.]