Bond over Blood

The blue male turned to him, addressing him coolly with eyes that Mikko could almost feel scanning him up and down. He waited there upon the stone ground, patient and stoic, silent as he waited for the other to respond and quietly taking his own opportunity to assess this unfamiliar pack mate in turn. When the stranger finally spoke, though, his eye flicked upward immediately to meet his, not wanting to miss a beat of information.

As it turned out, this male was looking for a sparring partner, something Mikko wasn't expecting--but was inwardly excited--to hear. He introduced himself as Eraithus, Nephilim, a rank the brute recalled to be far more lowly than his own. So he'd found someone who was living out some sort of punishment? Mikko huffed at this. Of course he had. Their difference in rank mattered little to him on a personal level, but he knew what it was like to be at the bottom of the ladder. It certainly wasn't fun. He had his whole body to prove that.

Good thing he's looking for a fight. Mikko flicked a tattered ear and shifted, unblinking, where he stood. It wasn't like he had anything to lose. "Mikko, Shujaa Hashmallim. I don't care what you did or why you're being punished, but you're going to have to train if you're going to get out of it." With a roll of his shoulders and a lick of his nose, he narrowed his eye and scraped his claws against the hard ground, readying himself for what was inevitably about to ensue. "So go on, then. Stretch your muscles."

""