There are too many of them.
Wolves have come from all parts of Ardent to gather around the battle that is brewing, either murmuring amongst themselves or keeping quiet or adding their own fuel to the flames. A sweeping gaze tells her that Erövrare is outnumbered -- but, where have all of these wolves come from? Dread fills her bones, weighs down her shoulders. Yes, Erövrare has been her kingdom on shining pillars but she knows all too well how pillars can crumble in a matter of moves.
All that matters are her children. But they are safe, aren't they? She has covered the entrance to the thicket with leaves and Eulogy has been put in charge in guarding them, but if these wolves are so against Tyranis then who is to say they won't want to harm his offspring? Leera sidesteps to allow Ezio, who has joined her and Nephthys, and nods to him. If anything, at least they've got Ezio on their side.
Jaws parted, she paces back and forth, saliva dripping from her teeth. Gutteral growls curl from her throat towards Hannibal's challenger, a man she's never seen, but she recognises the brownish woman at his side. Circe... Yes, Leera remembers Circe. She had enjoyed the woman, even taken a liking to her and her ways. And now? Leera doesn't have time to think before a towering man appears before her, draped in familiar white fur. "It is unfortunate that your king has decided not to show his face and fight for one of his own...including you."
Acere... his challenge astounds her. Suddenly, desperation courses through her blood and heat rises to the surface of her skin; she's sparred once with Acere before and he'd shown her quite a challenge. But that had been only but a mere spar -- this is war. This is real. The Abaven male towers over her, exceeds her in almost every physical dimension, and Leera is still regaining her strength from her recent birth. The odds are unfavorable, to say the least, and without the High Lord's help Leera can predict the outcome. Another male steps in, putting himself between her and Acere, and although he smells of Erövrare he's unfamiliar. "Stop! Stop this at once!" She demands, hackles raised, tail lashing. She locks eyes with Acere and lowers her head, lips still curled over her teeth. She trembles visibly, breath falling from her jaws in helpless urgency. "Take me -- but you will not touch the children. They go unharmed. They remain in my care." She lowers herself to the ground, every nerve in her body screaming for her to fight him, tear out his eyes, drink his blood, but she knows this is the only way she can guarantee her pup's survival.
She glances to Nephthys, hoping she understands why she's submitting. Wolves move and talk and fight in all directions, but Leera can't keep her attention off of anyone but Acere. The children, the children, the children... It's her only motive. Her only fight is to keep them alive. "Acere, promise me it. Promise me they'll live if I come with you," she pleads, softly, ears against her head as she submits before the Abaven male. And then, a threatening tone creeps into her sopranos. She looks Acere right in the eye. "If so much as one of them dies as a result of this, I will make it my singular goal to murder every child you have had or ever will have. I will wear their bones around my neck and I will dress my children in their skins."
DEFAULT WIN FOR ACERE
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