He is quick to do nothing. Stillness plagued his body, which caused the Storyteller to cock her head to the side. She was dazzling, with a childlike naivety. Though his heart may have been in a good place, Dröm could not bring herself to understand why he didn't attack. What was the hesitation? The rabbit came to the conclusion that she was somehow not worthy enough to tango with the King. As silence had begun to fall on them, the flaxen girl just thought. She wasn't too deep in thought when she figured out what she would do.

He began speaking as he stepped towards her. Gold had formed where he previously stood, and it glinted under the pale moonlight. Midas touch, they called it, but the gold boy would no further distract the Arab, for she was determined. She stepped forward, attempting to close the space between them further. She wanted to get close enough to feel the heat of his breath-- to see the whiskers on his muzzle. She knew very well that they were both approximately the same height. His words were considered carefully by the rabbit, yet she wasn't convinced. "Du är ett bandage, inte en kniv," she responded, her voice a whisper. The femme knew well that her language was uncommon, and she figured he wouldn't understand, but her words were compassionate and she hoped he wouldn't think she had been attempting to offend him.

Her gaze fell on his neck, then traveled to his collar. She had never really given much thought to the collar, yet now the collar interupted her thoughts. Would it cause a problem during the fight? Would the metal scratch her delicate hide? She had no idea, yet she wanted to continue. "Surely you aren't going to make me go first, Midas." Once again, she stepped back, ensuring herself some distance away from him. Her voice was no longer a whisper, nor a loud yell. She was calm and spoke with ease, but she boiled with anticipation. Was this all truly because he didn't want to hurt her? Eventually there would be a war, she would have to help. Would her opponent want to keep her safe? No. They would want to watch her go down and watch their herd rise. She would bleed, break, perhaps cry, but that could all be avoided. All she would have to do would be to train. Even if she looses, every battle is a chance to learn. Would Midas truly want to deprive her of a learning experience this amazing? Surely any fight with the King would be amazing.

She surged forward, a lunge that attempted to get her just close enough to Midas. Her lips curled back revealing white pearly teeth. Her jaw was open wide as she sought skin to clamp down on. She aimed her attack at the left side of his neck. If she bit him, she would try to hold her bite and tear skin off as she continues forwards, hoping to pass him on his left side. She moves quickly, not enjoying fighting so up close. As she moves forwards, she kicks out at where she hopes he still stands with as much force as an Arab could have. Though inexperienced, she is able to kick out quickly, aiming at his left hindquarter area. She is not the strongest, but she thinks it will be enough to bring some sort of pain to him if her attacks are successful.

Ooc: 1/3 (did this one on my phone, hence no table)
She tried to bite his neck and tear skin off, then she kicks his left hindquarter.

Du är ett bandage, ente en kniv = you are a bandage, not a knife