Summer. It was so damn hot it was ridiculous. The heat had driven her into the water and now onto the beach of this island. Her pelt clung to her curves, sand sticking to her wet paws. The cool breeze off the water was welcomed. But the vision that was laid out before her was far more captivating. Ruins of something she had never seen before. Crumbling stone, overtaken by vegetation. It pulled her forward off the beach, further into the heart of the island, rosy gaze sweeping across everything in a quick glance, pausing only for things that caught her attention. It had taken her well into the afternoon to swim to the island, the heat of the day drying her silvery pelt quickly, drawing her from her explorations back out into the water, drenching her legs and belly in salty ocean water. Cena had not come with her, preferring to stay out of the water and on dry land. Typical feline. Hues of blue stretched on in all directions, she could barely make out the land form of her home amidst the sea. She didn't want to return yet. Swinging her elegant frame away from the waters, she pushed herself towards the shore, seeking out a spot amongst the warm sand, craving the last of the warm rays to tease her body. Lids fluttered shut, hiding coral gems from the rest of the world. Shutting her mind to the world, she allowed herself to drift off into an afternoon nap, after all as far as she knew, she was alone on this island. Hopefully it would stay that way. But things never went according to plan. One thing would though. She would find some poor unsuspecting wolf to prey on, to sink her teeth into just so she could hear their cries and pleas, trying to find mercy, but it would be a lost cause. Mercy wasn't in her vocabulary. From the time she was a pup she had grown up a ruthless bitch. She was proud of it, proud of the way her victims looked at her fearfully, knowing it would be their last day, proud of the way she could effortlessly kill. And it was all thanks to her brother. The bastard had given her the taste for blood. Her stomach rumbled quietly. She was hungry. But for more than just dinner. She was hungry for a hunt, a good hunt. A sneer tugged at her inky lips. She could see her victim now. A little fae, pelt a mixture of ebony and ivory, wide sapphire eyes that were so sweet and innocent. A little medic. Her blood staining the earth forever. It was a glorious picture. One she would live to see. One day. Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

the heat of summer was awful. his fur was dark, and the hot sun seemed abnormally attracted to his black fur, making him feel miserable. the only answer to his situation was simple -- water. moving much more quickly than usual, the male headed toward the nearest source of water ... which happened to be the ocean. what a sight he was, his dark fur contrasting sharply with the glimmering sea, as the sun reflected against it. a black beast, with only the smallest hint of violet, as though his skin itself was a dark purple. to accent his strange look, his violet eyes narrowed as he shielded his vision from the bright sunlight. without hesitation he began to wade in the shallows, feeling immediate refreshment upon entering the cool waters. his gaze was cast out, scanning the horizon -- he was surprised to see something in the distance. perhaps it was an uninhabited isle, a place he could find some peace? perhaps some shade from the sun's pelting rays? slowly he began to wade deeper, eventually finding that his paws no longer reached the bottom of the ocean. he gazed ahead, finding the distance to the island to not be unbearably great -- he could easily swim across. and without surprise, he was able to swim across the expanse of sea, finally reaching solid ground. soaking wet, he climbed up the shore, shaking his body vigorously he rid his coat of excess water. intruding on his vision though, he found another creature. inhabiting the isle he had wanted all to himself. his nose wrinkled, lips curling into a sneer. he was easily angered, when things did not go his way; and lately that seemed all too often. he took a few steps nearer to the woman, a low snarl dripping from his lips.

There was a change in the noise of the waves crashing down on the beach. Something lingering within the waves. Eyes snapped open, zeroing in the wolf that waded into the shadows, water dripping off his dark pelt. A snarl curled his lips as he reached the shore, clearly upset that she was here. Pushing herself to her feet in one quick movement she stood, a snarl ripping from inky lips. Lids narrowed over coral gems, ears going flat against her skull. "Careful now baby." Sickly sweet words oozed from her jaws, poison lacing each syllable. Who in the hell did he think he was anyways? Showing up on this island, all defensive like she had entered his territory. If anything he had entered hers, she had claimed her little patch of beach for the day. No little mongrel was going to chase her off simply because he was in a foul mood. Chin tucked defensively against her throat, cold and calculating eyes watching his every move, every twitch of a muscle. Lips remained curled back, revealing rows of razor sharp daggers, a low snarl playing on her tongue. Perhaps she would get her hunt after all. And it came in the form of a pup, barely a year old. He was large for his age, but still smaller than herself. He was about to receive a quick lesson. One he wouldn't soon regret. One that would make him her little bitch. The thought brought a heartless sneer to her face. His daddy would be so proud. She remained frozen in place, holding her defenses high, silvery plume flagged out behind her as she waited. She would allow him the first move, to either back down, or attack. One deadlier than the other. She hoped for the later. She wanted to taste the sweet liquid that coursed through his veins, to hear his cries for help, his pleas for her mercy. He may not be the victim she had in mind, but he would work just find. Tongue curled between her jaws, letting another snarl rip free as she let his confidence build from her lack of attack. Let him think she didn't want to fight, that she was weaker and he would have his way. But her attack would be explosive, her pent up rage finally running free. And all of it being taken out on some poor little boy. Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

Purple gaze remained locked on the woman as he slunk closer, ever so slightly. He was not particularly in the mood to interact with others, especially a female. His mind was muddled today, distracted by unpleasant thoughts. He had seen his mother only days before, and she had been very visibly pregnant. At the mere thought, his lip curled upward in a snarl, but no sound left his lips. These children were unwanted as siblings to him -- his father had impregnated his mother one last time, only to fail their family and lose, sacrificing his life. And his mother... she hadn't even been around for months, and to now reappear as though nothing had happened at all? He felt torn between relief and hate, and he found it difficult to settle on any one particular emotion. Instead dozens of feelings welled up inside his chest until he could no longer bear them, and a dull numbness took over. But right now... something like rage boiled over as he watched this foreign woman. 'Careful now baby.' Lids narrowed over his strange purple gaze, watching her warily. "Why should I be careful? Do she bite?" Perhaps he was simply asking for a fight, but his voice was only vaguely sarcastic, instead mostly emotionless; save for the snarl that lingered on his lips. The yearling had experienced more loss than a yearling ever should, and he was fearless, even as he looked straight into the mouth of danger herself. She seemed poised, ready to attack -- waiting for him to either fight or flee. But he rarely did either. Instead he slunk that much closer, tail flicking idly behind his large frame. The boy was forever doomed to be stuck between worlds, between minds; and right now, between safety and obvious danger.

Coral pools watched with cold accuracy at the young brute moved closer, moving only little by little. His words were spoken boldly, but his small movements spoke otherwise. A snarl remained etched on his face, white hot rage boiling in his eyes. Surely it wasn't because she was on this beach. "What's the matter, mommy and daddy issues?" Venomous words rolls cruelly off her tongue. She had no idea how accurate her taunt was, she simply assumed that because he was young, he still had some interaction with his family. Eyes danced with lust, she could see the fight in his eyes, she could practically taste his blood, feel it running down her throat. No, she wouldn't kill this one, he had to much fight in him, he could bring her far more pleasure over time. Why should I be careful? Does she bite? Musical laughter fell from inky lips that curled over her fangs. "Why don't you come find out?" Crown lifted high, chin tucking to protect her throat as her tail curled over her back, her entire posture screamed dominance. She would see him pinned beneath her. Stance carefully widened, toes spreading, her center of balance lowering with a bend in her legs, she kept herself balanced all around. Eyes burned bright with excitement and desire. Tongue curled between her jaws in a silent snarl. Her pelt bristled while she scrunched her neck, adding an extra layer of protective fat. There was no way he would be able to hang on to his already frazzle self control. A few taunts here and there and he'd be dying to rip her throat out. Why is exactly what she wanted. Him to be so angry and set on killing her that he got sloppy in his moves, careless in his defenses. He was already careless with his actions, walking right into danger, signing his death warrant. It was already set in her mind. He would be her bitch, if it wasn't today, then it would be in the near future. He would be hers. Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

This woman reminded him somewhat of his father. The lifelessness in her eyes was visible... there was no compassion there, no love like the kind he found in his mother's eyes. 'What's the matter, mommy and daddy issues?' His eyes burned, but he dared let a cold laugh fall from his lips. "If only you knew," he rumbled as he stepped a foot closer. He noted something like expectancy on her features, as though she was waiting for him to strike. And yet he saw how dominantly she stood. He hadn't even been able to defeat Cross, and yet this woman ... surely she was more experienced. And yet hate drove him even further, inching closer, his eyes narrowing and zeroing in on her. His mother had always sought pain, had craved the control that Kaios had so gladly given her. In many ways, they were a perfect couple; they each had precisely what the other craved. Their love had been true, although unique and not at all typical. Basilisk felt strange longing at this realization -- he felt empty, hollow. What would soothe the pain of his soul, like Kaios had soothed his mother's? He had thought the taste of blood would ignite a sort of unstoppable fire within him, and yet his first spar had gone in an entirely different direction. He had ultimately befriended Cross, even shared some of his secrets with him. No overwhelming urge to slaughter him had formed within him. Perhaps he was more like his mother ... his mind wandered, expression faltering, confusion overtaking him instead. 'Why don't you come find out?' She taunted, spreading herself wide for balance. She really figured he would attack, didn't she? Perhaps he ought to run, to swim back home ... but he wasn't the best or faster swimmer in the world. Death by drowning would not be pleasant. "Better yet, why don't you show me.." His heart hammered rapidly in his chest, his mind reeling -- he felt as though he was temporarily losing it, like the world was spinning around him and he had no option but to ride it out until it all came down. Clumsily he slid forward more, no longer a safe distance away, leaning toward her as though seeking any kind of comfort. It had been so long since he had felt the warmth of another; he was reminded briefly of his sister, of sleeping against her and Newt, how warm they both were ... Cross's word's rang in his ears, but to no avail. 'Look, we've all got the burdens of being a legacy... I hope you won't crack under yours.' Easier said than done ... still he reached forward, wanting badly to slip his head under this stranger's throat and feel the warmth radiating from her. Only moments ago he had been angry, defensive -- how quickly it all changed..

She paid little attention to the words that fell from his lips, her focus was slowly on his movements, the fire that danced in his eyes. A vicious smile remained on her face, fangs peeking out from behind leathery lips. He continued to move closer, leaving behind the safety of the distance he had. He purposefully put himself within striking distance. Better yet, why don't you show me. Any surprise that she felt didn't show. He was asking for it? His steps became clumsy as he closed the distance. She was older, certainly had more experience than him. Muscles coiled like steel springs. "With pleasure my dear." She struck with unforgiving speed. Jaws unhinged as she threw herself at the young boy. Her goal was to collide her chest into his left (cats right) shoulder. A snarl ripped from her jaws. Wanting to keep him close, she brought her left forelimb up, intending to hook it over his neck. Jaws aimed to grab the flesh on the side of his neck. Adrenaline shot through her, pounded through her veins. Eyes had narrowed on the vision of her victim, audits going flat against her silver scalp. Lives would be spared, but prisoners would be taken she was sure of it. With her plume streamlining behind her for balance, muscles remained loose, flowing with ease through her attacks. Oculars watched for any sign of his movement, any sign that her attack might fail. Only time would tell just how experienced or inexperienced the boy was. She could feel the heat of his body mingling with her own, the hairs of his darker pelt mixing with her silver. It had been some time since she had last been in any contact with another wolf, it wasn't something she found comfort in, just something she did for her own pleasure. What seemed like hours was only seconds, from the time she spoke, to the moment she struck, desperately wanting to feel her body collide with his. Should her attack fail, claws from her lifted left leg would move to score his flesh, jaws would snap relentlessly until they found purchase. She was determined to keep him within her grasps, his escape would only add fuel to her fire, make his life more miserable and hers more pleasurable. Growls rumbled from her throat, lips remained curled back over fangs, her defenses strong and unwavering. She would have her way. She would revel in the feeling of him pinned beneath her, as she would make it happen eventually. There was no escape for the youngster. "You're gonna be mine." Sensual lyrics eased from between her jaws, such few words speaking volumes. Should her jaws meet the flesh on his neck, words would be slightly muffed, but still spoken with clear intent. Attacks: lunged forward intending to knock her chest into Bas's left shoulder (her right since they are facing each other), jaws aimed to grab the left side of his neck while her left leg was brought up intending to hook over his neck/shoulder Defenses: eyes narrowed, ears pinned, tail flagged out behind her, stance wide for balance Injuries: none Round 1/3 OOC- Permission by Nyx to edit the # of rounds, to make this a dominance spar, and to inform Basilisk that Cat is gonna own him >;) Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

Basilisk Saxe was barely a yearling, though seemed a bit older due to how large he had already grown to be. Unlike his mother, who seemed condemned to a life that would forever be chaotic, he felt as though he had more control of his fate. And yet he was terribly corruptible, unable to. He recognized this in himself, and though he found himself occasionally struggling against his most carnal urges, often he tended to embrace the darkness that seemed embedded in his very soul. He was different than most wolves -- he'd seen things that many wolves could hardly even imagine. He'd watched his own father die before his eyes, watched life itself be violently drained from him, only to pool on the ground in a viscous puddle of dark red blood. He'd been born into such a life, and it felt like it was something he could never escape, no matter how hard he fought against it. Some days, like today, it simply wasn't worth fighting. He had reached forward, desperate for the possibility of a brief embrace. Even the devil himself, Kaios, had possessed at least an ounce of compassion for his mother; perhaps this woman was similar. Amidst the pain and the torment, still he craved some kind of warmth, however sinister it might be. He'd seen the possibility of finding solace in Aegira, the innocent young girl he'd met in the caves... in whatever form that it might take. He wasn't sure what this woman would give him, but all he knew was that he needed something, something he couldn't place his paw on. Pain did not soothe him; blood did not quench the thirst. The woman smiled wickedly, and any semblance of emotion fell suddenly off his features. 'With pleasure my dear,' she murmured, and then she struck him immediately after. Her jaws parted, and he saw a flash of pearly white fangs as she pounced, looping her left forelimb up and around his neck, aiming to push him to his side and snag his neck. He hadn't been particularly startled by the movement, but he also hadn't been balanced property; her momentum sent him stumbling backwards, his neck twisting down and to the ground. A white hot pain was sent through his neck as her paw collided with him, his head twisting abruptly. Yet he resisted with all his might, arching his back to try to maintain balance, spreading his paws and trying to keep his weight spread on all four paws. Everything in his life, including this moment, seemed so terribly disappointing. Unrewarding. He'd seen his mother writhe with pleasure at his father's violence; he'd seen him draw blood, had seen how close it brought them. This was no different; as he jaws collided with the left side of his neck, he let out a dangerous snarl, beginning as a deep roar within his chest and finally erupting loudly from his lips. 'You're gonna be mine,' she declared. As he moved to pull from her grasp, knowing very well the action might tear flesh, it felt as though time frozen. He remembered his practice spar with Cross, and how bad of a move it had been to pull away from his opponent so brashly. A fight for dominance this was, though, not a mock fight between yearlings. He saw the way she looked at him, with hunger in her eyes, a hunger he felt himself grow in his heart as he felt her fangs began to sink into his neck. He could not belong to her, no ... regret was not something he felt often, but suddenly he wondered if he should've stayed away from this island after all. He'd tested his luck, knowing very well it might lead him straight into the open mouth of danger. He wondered, maybe, if it was somewhere he wanted to be led. He would not go down -- he was determined to keep fighting, despite the outcome of the fight. Again he snarled, bracing himself against the woman's attacking jaws. Basilisk had learned something from Cross. No, multiple things, but a few in particular relating to sparring. A sharp jerk of his neck to the left would be his rebuttal, aiming to push into the attack. Perhaps she would stumble, or relinquish her hold on him. Either would be a great option right about now. "Doesn't seem I'm the only one with mommy and daddy issues.." Basilisk snarled through gritted teeth. Writhing his body to the left, he pushed further into her clamped jaws, knowing very well if he jerked away that flesh would be torn. It was all he could do to push his head back, hoping somehow that might continue to protect the sensitive flesh there, though he already could feel warm blood begin to trickle down, mingling with his dark fur and making his whole neck feel warm and tender. His own jaws began to snap as their moved in a sort of circle, aiming for teeth to snag her side as her leg pushed him further down. All he could do now was pray he did not fall, and that somehow he grabbed hold of the scruff on her side and cause even the slightest distraction. ROUND 1 / 3 - for dominance Attacks: Aiming to either push into the attack and hope she relinquishes her hold or stumbles; also aiming to grab hold of her left side Defenses: Back arched, paws spread wide & weight evenly distributed, scrunching his neck as she grabs it to make it harder to hold on to. Injuries: Serious bite to the left side of his neck, potentially a torn/sore muscle in his neck as she wraps her limb around him and twists his neck around.

The gratification that swarmed her as a few drops of his blood teased her tongue was immense. As soon as she tasted it, jaws clamped down with force, holding him to her, he would have a serious injury if he tore away from her. He hadn't properly prepared himself, leaving him vulnerable to her force. He stumbled back, his neck bending at an unnatural angle between her paw and jaws. He deep thunderous roar exploded from him, a sound she didn't think possible from the younger male. It drove her on. Blood flowed freely from his neck, coating her tongue with its sweetness. He quickly righted himself, pushing into her hold. To avoid being gagged by his flesh and fur, she pulled herself back, rocking her weight back onto powerful hind limbs. His arched back and wide stance gave him just enough balance to stay upright. But if she added more weight? WIth her forelimb still wrapped around his neck, she reared up, throwing her weight into. Jaws and her leg would force his neck into an even more unnatural position, should she succeed. She could hear jaws clicking together audibly, feel his fangs brush her pelt until they finally made a purchase at her shoulder. A snarl ripped through clenched jaws as pain shot through her shoulder. He had her by a layer of fatting flesh, not yet hitting the muscle. What the boy didn't know was her lust for the pain, the feeling of fangs piercing her flesh and drawing blood, how it egged her on, pushed her closer and closer to the edge. But now was not the time for pleasure. Now was the time for victory. She refused to let him slip from her grasp, he had his chance and he forfeited it. With the throwing of her weight towards him, she widened the stance of her hind legs, keeping one slightly in the front of the other for added balance with silvery plume waved like a banner behind her. Narrowed coral pools where bright with excitement, carefully pinned audits listening to the sounds of his snarls. The adrenaline rush from this fight put every sense on high alert. The air got saltier, the sound of crashing waves louder, the wind felt like a lovers caress against her hot skin. The pounding of her blood roared in her ears. She could only hope that her added weight on his neck would force him down, force him to fight from the ground. Doesn't seem like I'm the only one with mommy and daddy issues. His words finally processed in her mind. Her expression became malicious as she was taken back to the night she killed her parents. Or what she referred to as her parents. She remembered bathing in the blood, and the blood of the rest of the pack. It was all so vivid she could practically taste it. The blood, the screams, her brothers touch. So many things had happened the night. It opened the doors for the brother and sister pair, turning them into ruthless monsters. The moment her brother crossed her mind, white hot rage shot through her. The bastard had left her! For some good for nothing whore! It took over. Her rage. Crown shook savagely, ripping open the flesh that was still in her jaws. If only this boy knew. ATTACKS: Threw her weight into him, putting more pressure on his neck that was still held between her jaws and forelimb, shaking her head back and forth, tearing into his flesh. DEFENSES: hind legs are spread wide for balance, bent so she could move quickly, tail flagged out for balance, eyes narrowed, audits pinned INJURIES: bite to her left shoulder ROUND 2/3 FOR DOMINANCE OOC- I got a little confused, she's intending to push him down with her jaws, and is just using her leg to keep him close, the force from her jaws is what's bending his neck, not the other way around c: Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

This was something entirely new for Basilisk. His spar with Cross had been nothing like this; it had been a mere practice fight, with only the slightest bit of blood drawn when he'd snagged the other male's leg a bit too roughly. And yet immediately he felt the woman tighten her grip on her neck, felt the warm blood began to leak from his wound and trickle down the fur of his neck. This woman was not terrified of him in the slightest; and as quickly as the fight began, he felt any hint of emotion drain from him. Replacing it was a cold beast, one who's only goal was to destroy this female for what she had begun to do to him. She wanted to claim him, to make him hers ... he belonged to no one. As her grip tightened, he let loose another snarl, the sound roaring through the isle that seemed strangely quiet ... Rather rewarding to the yearling, one of his desperate attacks landed, albeit not perfectly. Fangs had snagged some of the scruff of her shoulder, sinking into her flesh. Though she roared a sound of pain, it only seemed to drive her on, to make her fight harder. And yet his neck was twisted painfully from the driving force of her jaws, pushing into his flesh further. His grip on her scruff would last only for a moment, but he whipped his head to the side, grip tight as he tore away, hoping desperately he would tear flesh at the least. Having a grasp on his neck, she still had the upper hand ... both figuratively and literally. If she was able to shift even a few inches, she could easily tear out his throat. And so he twisted his neck in her grasp as well as he could, feeling flesh tearing. Red hot pain surged through him, and the sensation felt startlingly similar to the sensation of a flame licking his flesh. It was unpleasant, and he was determined to force the woman to relinquish her hold on him. With his head so low to the earth, his body twisting so dramatically that he was on the verge of crumbling entirely to the ground, he had an idea. It would either work well, or backfire completely. With a surge of energy, ears flattened against his skull, he attempted to push his head forward to snap at Cataleya's left forelimb, aiming for the joint. If he snapped it hard enough, it would be difficult for her to keep her hold on him; but it was equally as likely that, as his hind legs slackened to let him push forward at snap at her leg, that she would be able to push the rest of his body down and send him toppling to the ground. ROUND 2 / 3 - for dominance Attacks: Ripping his hold from her shoulder scruff, hoping to bleed her; also trying to grab her leg at the joint, not to pull it out from under her but to simply damage it by the pure force of his clamped jaws Defenses: Ears pinned to skull, stance still wide to keep himself from falling down entirely Injuries: Serious, bleeding bite to the left side of his neck (torn flesh as she shakes her head back and forth), potentially a torn/sore muscle in his neck as she twists his neck down to the ground Other: SAF and I are okay with posts taking longer than the allotted 3 days <3 also I think the challenger is supposed to let the other start but this is fine for plot reasons :D PS I'm sorry if any of this is confusing, I'm doing my best!

White hot pain shot from her shoulder down her leg and across her entire body. She could feel him ripping away her flesh with each violent pull. A snarl vibrated her chest as audits clung tighter to her skull, driving her forward, she would not lose this one. The little bastard would pay. She kept her grip on his neck, jaws so close to the vein that pumped life through his body. But she had no intention of killing him. She wanted him alive. There was another audible clicking of jaws and then sudden pain on her left foot. She felt his fangs grab the joint of her leg, holding on for dear life. She shook her head again violently, tearing more of his flesh. The woman was by no means stupid. She would have to release him or risk serious injury to her limb and she still had to swim home. With a final attack, she pushed harder. Shoving her weight against him, forcing him to hold her 115 pounds at an awkward position. Her right front leg came up, slinging across his shoulders as she swung her body to follow suite, moving so she stood at a slight angle to his chest/shoulder, with her leg still in his grasp. Hind legs bent briefly before pushing off to shove into him, her goal to knock him to the ground. She wanted to have her upper body on top of him, pushing down on him. Jaws flexed, trying to keep a hold of him, pain searing through her leg. She hoped that the added pressure would make him snap, that his legs would cave under the pressure on his neck and he would go down. If he fell, then she would release his neck, skull swinging so her jaws could grasp his face, her goal only to get him to release her leg, jaws would snap until they found purchase on his face and would hang on until he released her. Her paws would be placed on either side of him, keeping him pinned beneath her, and once he released her leg, her right paw would lift and land mercilessly on his wounded neck, claws flexing against the tender flesh, keeping him down. If he didn't fall, then she would release his neck, jaws would still go for his face, her right leg would stay across his shoulders, bringing her attacks down at an angle across the top half of his face, while she still kept her weight on top of him just moving herself up toward her neck, bring her weight down on the injured/sore muscle and bringing jaws closer to their point of attack. She didn't care. Didn't care about anything. She didn't care if she snapped his neck, blinded him, broke his bones. He had sparked an interest in her, a desire to make him hers. It was clear that he wanted no such thing. The only problem was she didn't care, had no feelings or regards to how he felt. It made her dangerous, ruthless. But for the same reason it made her a good ally. He would see that. One day. The day that he belonged to her. Wicked pleasure glittered in narrowed eyes. Pain shot little jolts of pleasure through her, pushing her for more, and for her to succeed. Determination. It egged her on to victory. The only sign of her pleasure was a brief wag of her tail before it resumed its place aligned with her spine, flagged out like a banner, centering her balance. Round 3/3 for dominance ATTACKS: Threw her right limb across his shoulders, throwing more of her weight on top of him, hoping to force him to the ground, keeping her jaws locked on his neck for as long as she could. Depending on his response to her attack, there could be possible attacks on his face to get him to release her leg. DEFENSES: Ears pinned, eyes narrowed, tail flagged out of balance, hind limbs planted wide for balance INJURIES: Bite and torn flesh on her shoulder, a bite to her left forelimb, severity depending on his next attack, whether he falls or hangs on OOC: I'm assuming that his attack on her left leg was aimed towards her ankle area? At least that's where I had it land Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

Fight defaulted to Cataleya due to Basilisk's failure to post in the time frame.

Basilisk must submit, flee, or pass out.

This woman was terrifyingly close to his jugular vein, pressing him tightly to the earth below. All because he had been too confident, too sure that she would not try to attack him, that the smaller woman could not overpower him. She seemed to use all of her strength to shake her head, ripping his flesh, sending more blood trickling down his neck. The wound was deep, and while it was certainly not fatal, he swore he felt his strength draining from his body with each second that passed.. His attack had landed, though he was still in a rather vulnerable position. Basilisk Saxe felt his teeth snag onto her limb, gripping desperately at her ankle and biting down. The taste of blood was rewarding, and yet he felt his limbs slipping, his body giving in from the force of her on top of him. A groan slipped from his throat, a painful sound that turned into a snarl. The blood loss was far greater than he realized, and he jerked himself around, trying to pull away from her as he released his grip on her foreleg. With his final surge of energy he would struggle to leave her, and yet he was too weak, far too weak ... his eyes strained as he attempted to focus on her, his gaze a hazy purple. Despite how badly he wished to strike her again, to make her pay for what she had done, he couldn't. The earth seemed to sway beneath him, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. Seconds felt like hours as his body gave up, slowly crumpling beneath her on the ground, his eyes fluttering shut and he drifted into unconsciousness and away from the pain that wracked his body and the blood that continued to flow from his wound..

Pain continued to surge through her leg as his fangs punctured the skin. Blood continued to bathe her tongue, flowing freely from his wounds. Soon his movements became frenzied. He released her leg and pulled away, desperate to escape her. But he attempt lasted only moments. His body swayed before legs crumpled beneath him. Jaws open to released him just as he fell to the earth with a soft thud. For a moment she did nothing but look at him. Blood seeped down is neck, matting his fur, his rising and falling side the only indication that he was still alive. A sneer curled her bloody lips. She was the victor here. He was hers. Not wanting her new pet to die on the beach she set off into action. Leaving him only for a few minutes, knowing he wouldn't get far if he woke, she set off into the forest, in search of some moss. Returning with her prize, she walked past the dark brute, dipping her head to soak it in the salt water. Turning towards the youngster, she approached, pressing the moss into his wounds, letting the salt water cleanse it. She waited for the bleeding to slow and eventually come to a stop before she gathered more water, this time letting it wash over his face. Lifting a paw, she nudge his uninjured chest, jostling him gently. "Time to wake up." She cooed gently to him. Haunches slide to the earth as she waited. He had no life threatening injuries. He would wake up soon enough. Mostly upset to find out his fate. Her own wounds had been mere scratches compared to his. She gently cleaned her shoulder, nose wrinkling as it stung. It was a shame that the boy had passed out rather, she had hoped for a good fight and submission from him. But oh well. In time it would come. She was certain this would not be their only fight. There would be more to come, he had been desperate to leave with his freedom, but had failed. Coral pools slide down towards him as he began to stir. What was his name? Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

Slowly the pain subsided as the boy drifted into unconsciousness. Giving up hadn't just been the best or easiest option, but the only one he had left. Darkness consumed him; his vision that had been flooded with red-hot hate faded into nonexistence, the quiet still of nothingness grasping him tightly. It was tantalizing ... and he felt himself drifting further into unconsciousness. If he had been more close to death, it would've been likely that he may have never returned. There was so little fight left in him. Even though everything he wanted in life seemed so close, still they managed to stay just barely out of his grasp. Never close enough for him to seize them. Part of him was surprised when he felt stinging pain again, felt his body being roused from unconsciousness into a world far less pleasant. What had felt like hours, even days, had merely been a few moments -- maybe an hour, at most. A groan slipped from Basilisk Saxe's lips, and he slowly blinked his eyes, vision swirling as he sought for something to grasp onto. Her ... the woman that had challenged for him. Though his wound stung awfully, he felt a familiar cool of herbs on his skin; was she healing him? It became clear to him then that she wanted him alive. Was that worse than death? For a moment, that certainly felt like it to him. Brief he bared his fangs, shifting ever so slightly to watch her above him. But the expression took too much effort, and it faltered rather quickly. "Wh.. why do you want me?" His voice was hoarse, but the question came somberly, with little hint of anger or ... much of anything, really.

Ever watchful gaze dropped as a groan emitted from the boy. A weak snarl tugged features as his eye met hers. To weak to keep up the facade it soon faded away. Why do you want me? His voice was weak, cracking with every word. Why? He challenged her, he approached her and attempt to subdue for no reason other than he was having a bad day. He had it coming. He deserved nothing less than to be beneath her and be under her claim. But it was only fair that she gave him an answer, not that she ever played fair. "Its apparent that you need some.... For a second she thought. What was the correct word for this? "guidance." Not that she intended to raise the boy or anything of the sort. He was simply her little minion, but he would thrive. She was certain of it. He had the unbridled rage to inflict pain on the others, with a little training her would have the skill to follow through. "You now belong to me. What is your name?" There was a command that lay beneath her softly spoken words. She was by no means nurturing or motherly, or anything of the sort. She was a cold hearted killer, and she found another that could be molded to do her bidding and have no problem with it. First, his wounds would need to heal. He was far to weak to swim back to the mainland, forcing to stay here for the night, at least. Audits stood at attention waiting to be graced with the boys name. Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

If only she knew! He needed guidance badly. Basilisk did not crave being dominated, not really ... he simply craved direction. In whatever way he could find it. Purple gaze strayed, his vision still swaying as he slowly drifted back to consciousness. Never had he felt so weak -- so small, despite the fact that he was quite a bit larger than this female. Inexperienced. Too arrogant to realize that he was not a worthy opponent. Size and brute strength ... they were not everything, even if he wished it so. His chest heaved as he lay there. The pain had subsided significantly, but still it lingered, a dull throbbing reminder of how stupid he had been. Everything felt so meaningless suddenly. A brief image of his siblings flashed in his mind. Where were they? Was Salamander even still alive? Or was he, too, beginning to succumb to the darkness of his mind? It was inevitable for the children of Newt and Kaios; they had never been given the option of normalcy. Perhaps the perversion was genetic, something that was built in the very fiber of their beings.. It sure felt like it. "Right," the boy replied simply -- finally -- after a moment of silence. His voice was strained, and rumbled from deep within his chest. His tongue slid from between parted jaws to wet his dry lips. For someone in such a predicament, he was entirely relaxed. Everything was so absurd and meaningless that he knew no other reaction than to simply lay before his master, and wait. He would need to regain his strength .. to train. But he wasn't even certain if he cared about avenging his father anymore. Her question came suddenly, and he blinked for a long while, almost as though confused by the question. "Basilisk Saxe."

The boy didn't seem entirely convicted but she didn't care. He was alive and hers. She grew impatient waiting for his name, he seemed confuse by the question, as though it was an absurd thing to ask. Basilisk Saxe. Eyes darkened with pleasure. He seemed resigned to his fate, simply laying at her feet, waiting. Waiting for her next order. A twisted smile curled her lips. "Cataleya, or you may call me Cat." Eyes roamed his frame, pausing to examine his wounds. He was already larger than herself, he woul be a sizeable opponent one day. "Come, you need to rest before we return to the mainland. I can't have my most prized possession dying on me." As she rose to her feet she dropped her face to his as the words 'prized possession' rolled off her tongue. Taking a step back she would wait for him to rise, she wouldn't wait long before an impatient growl rumbled in her throat. Wounded or not, there was no time for weakness. She needed him quick on his feet no matter his physical state. The silver woman would turn, moving up the each to forest. She had no fear of him fleeing. Where would he go? She would catch him and remind him of his place. There was no hiding from her. Audits flipped back, listening for the sounds of his movements. "We'll find a place to sleep and then just his once I'll hunt dinner for us. She would turn her skull jut enough so he could hear her directions for the rest of the night. She needed him strong to make the swim back home. Cat Talk, Cena Talk,

Quietly he panted, chest heaving up and down as he lay there, eying her with his strange empty stare. He had half a mind to call for his mother, knowing she would come to rescue him -- but he did not need her, and from this island his call would go unheard. Instead silence became him, enveloping him and wrapping its welcoming tendrils around him tightly and refusing to let go. Her name was Cataleya. He could call her Cat. Perhaps if he was lucky, she would tear out his throat in his sleep and he would never be forced to wake up. But he knew he would not get off quite so easily. The brute blinked slowly, his vision swaying still. She commanded he rise, and after a moment he did, struggling to pull himself onto all fours. Luckily the herbs she had found had dried to his neck, effectively stopping the bleeding, but the pain had only subsided minimally. A growl bubbled from within his throat, though he refused to part his jaws to let the sound escape fully. With great effort he would begin to pad after her, head hanging low; it was far too painful to extend his neck at all. He was grateful for the news of impending sleep, and a meal when he awoke. She was not so bad, and yet Basilisk still felt as though dying might be a better option. Perhaps he was being over-dramatic. He grimaced as he followed after her, knowing he could walk for a decent distance, until she found a suitable place for them to sleep.

It didn't take long for her to find a suitable place to sleep, finding a den like shelter in the curve of a tree. She poked her head in looking around before backing out and gesturing the wounded male in. "Sleep and in the morning I shall hunt." As soon as he would enter their temporary home, the silvery woman slide in after him, placing herself directly in front of the entrance. He would be unable to escape without her knowing, not that he'd be able to get very far with his injuries. Making herself comfortable and settling in the for the night, a yawn split her jaws before her crown was rested on her paws and she drifted off into a restful nights sleep. -Exit via dreams- Cat Talk, Cena Talk,