fronthand backhand
05-13-2020, 04:11 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-13-2020, 04:11 PM by Malalia.)
Her opponent didn't keep her waiting long. She eyed the stranger's bright red coat with interest -- not orange, or reddish-brown, but a true red, the color of freshly-spilled blood. A morbid contrast, perhaps, to the glowing white woman she'd met not long ago. And too, this stranger carried the scent of Valhalla with him. Was every wolf there strangely colored?
The shock of red almost hid the fact that he was much, much older than she was; elderly, in fact. She padded forward to greet the stranger, smiling at his jest. Grandpa's got some jokes, huh? "Nah," she shook her head. "This is actually perfect. I'm tired of fighting pups. I mean, beating up on the elderly is usually frowned upon... but I'm game." A wicked grin crossed her features as she slid into a defensive stance.
First move was his.
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