Strike a violent pose

Black-rimmed ears pressed forward as he heard his name pass the blood-stained lips of his brother. It was soon followed with resentful words, and Ramsay cringed when the last words were coldly spat at him. His ears folded back, and he took yet another step back from his brother, his body posture lowering, tail curling around the back of his hocks. No, this wasn't what he'd wanted. "You won, you are the best fighter. You proved your point, this is exactly what you wanted." Vadim's words echoed in his ears, his head shaking back and forth as his eyes squeezed closed, as though he would remove the words from his mind. "No... that's not..." he murmured. When he opened his eyes, Vadim was moving away from him. It was too late. He'd messed up and he couldn't fix it.

His head dropped as guilt replaced the rage he'd felt moments ago. He felt his own blood seep through his blonde mane, beginning to drip down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging them and blinding him temporarily as his brother walked further and further away. He shook his head, spattering the droplets out of his eyes, gritting his teeth. This was all wrong... huffing, a new anger began to fill him. He felt hurt, guilt overwhelming him, but... didn't Vadim start this? Ramsay had laid down the fuel, but Vadim had lit the fuse. Maybe his brother was right, maybe this was what he'd wanted. He'd won. Amongst the confusion, he felt a sense of power and pride - the cost had been hefty, but he didn't know how to go back on that now. His mind whirling, heart aching and emotions in turmoil, unable to comprehend what was going on, he turned and left the scene, heading in the opposite direction of his brother.

-exit-