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06-02-2015, 08:05 AM
Was she nervous, his iron-like soldier? Did his cloaked presence make her heart tick a little faster—or why else the clamped ears, and the growl rumbling in that snow-white chest? Mauja's veiled gaze fell briefly to the large animal, something like distaste unfolding in his chest. He didn't like it when companions threatened him, least of all ones crammed with so much muscle and sharp teeth as this one.
But aside from the mere physical aspects of the kittycat's displease—there was a real question lurking beneath that. Did it feed off of her emotion? Was she displeased with seeing him—distrustful—something strong enough to cause her bond-mate to growl, the sound the low roar of an engine in the back of his ears.
Who is that evil? Roskuld whispered in the back of his mind, the memory a lightning flash as Nyx repeated the word he had used—evil. All in all, it nearly had him shying away again, retreating into the fog and the shadows he knew so well.. but he stayed, something held him grounded, his gaze sweeping the steel gray of her body.
"Effort," he repeated, the word simply a breath turning into smoke in the damp air. Ah, yes. It took effort to stab those who slept (he knew all about that, waking up to blood and snow).
He was about to say something—some nonsense that fled his mind when she went on, asking him what he was doing out there—but closed his mouth again, sharp gaze falling to the still-rumbling lion and back to her. Training. Dedication. A desire to fight, to protect. Was that what ran like fire in her lion's veins? "Queen," he corrected her with an absent-minded breath, shifting on the spot, muscles and nerves firing up with life as his eyes lit up. "And I like warmongering at this ungodly hour."
For a moment he remained still, sort of trapped in a half-step, a bird trying to get somewhere but having forgotten how to fly; and then the little smirk playing on his lips grew lopsided as he loosened his hold on control (sanity).
"Catch me if you can," he dared her, turning elegantly to disappear into the fog—moving with a certain, controlled grace, knowing this terrain from memory; where the dew let his hooves slide roots shored him up.
Back in the clearing, one owl made a lonely circuit, hoping to see the steely mare tear after her Queen.
Don't give up on your challenge.
Nyx had something to prove tonight.
[ 0/3 || @[Nyx] ]
But aside from the mere physical aspects of the kittycat's displease—there was a real question lurking beneath that. Did it feed off of her emotion? Was she displeased with seeing him—distrustful—something strong enough to cause her bond-mate to growl, the sound the low roar of an engine in the back of his ears.
Who is that evil? Roskuld whispered in the back of his mind, the memory a lightning flash as Nyx repeated the word he had used—evil. All in all, it nearly had him shying away again, retreating into the fog and the shadows he knew so well.. but he stayed, something held him grounded, his gaze sweeping the steel gray of her body.
"Effort," he repeated, the word simply a breath turning into smoke in the damp air. Ah, yes. It took effort to stab those who slept (he knew all about that, waking up to blood and snow).
He was about to say something—some nonsense that fled his mind when she went on, asking him what he was doing out there—but closed his mouth again, sharp gaze falling to the still-rumbling lion and back to her. Training. Dedication. A desire to fight, to protect. Was that what ran like fire in her lion's veins? "Queen," he corrected her with an absent-minded breath, shifting on the spot, muscles and nerves firing up with life as his eyes lit up. "And I like warmongering at this ungodly hour."
For a moment he remained still, sort of trapped in a half-step, a bird trying to get somewhere but having forgotten how to fly; and then the little smirk playing on his lips grew lopsided as he loosened his hold on control (sanity).
"Catch me if you can," he dared her, turning elegantly to disappear into the fog—moving with a certain, controlled grace, knowing this terrain from memory; where the dew let his hooves slide roots shored him up.
Back in the clearing, one owl made a lonely circuit, hoping to see the steely mare tear after her Queen.
Don't give up on your challenge.
Nyx had something to prove tonight.
[ 0/3 || @[Nyx] ]
lord, the demands you're making-
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
