-bleep-
08-27-2018, 12:40 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-27-2018, 01:08 PM by Demyan.)
Whitey over there stayed silent, refusing to respond to his needling, so Demyan rolled his eyes back over to the pretty princess. He didn't know how she could possibly have known he was wandering in circles, since he hadn't - yet, though he probably would have if it had gone on long enough - addressed the rock directly, but he didn't miss a beat. "Oh yeah, princess, me and Rocky go way back. Besties since I was a wee puppy and he was just a liddle pebble. He says, oh listen to that." He tilted his head toward the rock as though listening. "Oh I don't know if I can say that, Rocky... oh who the fuck am I kidding of course I can. Rocky here says he fucked your mom when your daddy wasn't around and she LIKED it. You know, that's probably why you got all the ugly little sparkles, just like Daddy Rocky..." He swept his tail toward the sparkly granite rock. Her attempted barb at him about being a Xanilov just drove a harsh bark of laughter from him as she charged him. Six feet wasn't a far distance for a wolf to cover, but he wasn't going to wait around for her to hop it either. Even as she was charging he threw himself forward to halve the distance between him and her previous position in a single bound. He used the momentum of his leap in an attempt bring the front part of his left shoulder downward in a leftward diagonal in an attempt to bring it smashing down against the left side of her cheek and muzzle, trying both to keep those teeth from his own vulnerable flesh and to break the weird fang at the gumline. (COUNTER) He kept his weight centered as he leaped, balance shifting between hindquarters to fore and back as he leaped and regathered himself. He held his weight rather lightly for a big wolf as he moved, but upon landing he kept his limbs widely spread for balance and his joints bent slightly to lower his center of gravity, with his paws spread wide and his claws digging in deeply to root him to the earth. Demyan's left forepaw hadn't hit the ground when he'd leaped - instead he curved it to hook back towards him in an attempt to slide around behind her right upper foreleg and draw her close. Because of his change in position, her attempt to strike his upper left foreleg with her shoulder hit the front of his chest in the bottom left to leave very slight bruising, her right shoulder jabbing upward to moderately bruise the lower right side of his chest. Since he had already been in motion, though, he attempted to continue his forward motion, seeking to drive his own chest forward into hers in an attempt to drive her back on her haunches, to throw her off balance with his heavier body. "I'm sure you'd think so, Sugarbear," he sniped at her in late reply to her barb, as he attempted to drive her back. He wondered which of his sickeningly sweet, foolish brothers had been giving her ideas of what a 'better' Xanilov would be. Maybe he needed to find said brother and beat the shit out of them, just to make a point. He laughed in her face, adding in a deep murmur, "Come back in a year and you'll be begging to feel a real Xanilov over you. I might even oblige you if you ask real pretty." He was moving even as he spoke, his haunches drawing under him to center his balance, his right foreleg rising in an attempt to wrap around her neck just in front of her left shoulder with the intention of hooking around the right underside of her neck and pulling her close, essentially trying to bearhug her beneath his greater weight. Head tilting so his muzzle moved to his left, his jaws gaped wide on a laugh and he drove them down and to his left, attempting to close his jaws over her spine directly behind her ears, his lower jaw on the left side of her neck and his nose on her right, with the intention of squeezing until he cut off the flow of blood to her brain or cracked bone. His highly expressive eyes were narrowed to glacial slits, his pewter-trimmed ears flattened to his skull to keep their perfect shapes safe from the ravages of weird long fangs. His hackles were raised, adding more height to his already substantial build in that time-honored fashion to intimidate and fool the eye. He lived for a good fight, reveled in it. He just hoped the little girl didn't cry too much when he beat her - crying children were even worse than crying women. DEMYAN vs AURIELLE for SPAR Round 1/3 Build Medium Height 39" OOC: edited to put in forgotten table coding, witnessed by Lazuli |