as we collide

It was time. The Overseer grew nervous, her stomach round and visible to a medically trained eye, although not yet large enough to inhibit her movements and not obvious to those who did not know what to look for, as she traversed to the battle grounds. She was ready to fight; already she?d offered a warning to the russet-kissed alpha, and if more than five of her followers showed, Argent would challenge for one. She was not a woman to make threats lightly; she?d meant what she said, and she would follow through with what was necessary. Her strides were dutiful, bringing her upon Isardis?s right side, his right hand woman. She sought to press a kiss to his shoulder, a token of affection and loyalty, a bid for him to destroy his opponent, and then she would move out of the way.
A Valhallan fool would arrive, Argent?s crimson eyes boring into him as she spoke so proudly and vainly. ?You sound like a man in need of compensation for a lack of something,? she spoke coolly to Gideon, dismissing his importance quickly. After all, what was the point in trying to put down her King, if not because he was jealous and insecure? Perhaps there was a subtle innuendo there, an implication that he was a lesser man in more than one way. ?Perhaps somebody needs to teach you a lesson. You speak like a bratty child,? she said, and she would rise to her feet, readying herself should he attack.

Her limbs spread equally apart, weight fairly distributing itself, tail swaying behind her for balance. Her toes were spread, limbs bent, center of gravity lowered. Shoulder rolled forwards, head aligning with her spine, chin tucking and jaws parting. Ears pinned back and eyes narrowed, face contorting into a snarl, eyeing this Valhallan, watching in case he decided he wanted to attack her. Argent was not keen on a fight, for she had other plans, but she would not simply let a fool insult her King.