I'm Just Gonna... -Yoink-

Saracyn breathed an irritated scoff when Scylla reminded him that, as part of a feast, all of their libations were free. Yeah, he didn't need to be reminded about that. "Oooooh nooooo, you called me a strawberry again. How devastating!" he mocked the mutant rodent, waving his paws about in a dramatic display of being spooked by her. He took another long drink while Scylla interrogated him on why he'd followed her, accurately claiming that he didn't even like her. "And you don't even like me, yet here you are, skulking about my home, stealing shit and creeping away into the shadows like some kind of gremlin. So why are you here anyway, hmm?" Her presence at the festival had come as quite the shock to the Mendacium prince, especially after their less-than-warm welcome back on Fenmyre. Now she was waltzing onto his family's island like she was lifelong friends and hadn't tried to slice his nose off.

Eyeing Scylla with an almost arrogant air of superiority, Saracyn took another swig of the rich red wine, barely paying attention to how his body had begun a gentle sway to and fro as his equilibrium was impaired. He stared down at the Fenmyrian girl, only barely remembering what she had looked like several seasons ago. Saracyn had gone through his own changes as well, puberty treating the prince kindly as the puppy fat had begun to melt away to sleek, taut muscles that had been developed over his time climbing the island's mountains and chasing down its prey. He would bulk up as he got older, but a part of him would always maintain that lean athletic build, a blend between his dam's slender build and his father's heavily toned frame. Like her, he was somewhere in the middle of that transition. Not that she'd notice. Just like how he definitely wasn't noticing how she had begun to thin out around her sides while forming a more feminine shape. Definitely not noticing that.

What Saracyn also definitely didn't notice was Scylla positioning her body to launch herself like a rocket at him, catching the crimson lad completely by surprise. He yelped in shock, caught mid-swig of wine and splashing some of the liquid across his fur as he tumbled backwards. Scylla wasn't all that heavy, and had he been more prepared and less unsteady, he likely could have caught her with ease. In his current drunken state, he easily tumbled back with her clinging to his neck and hind legs kicking at his torso until he was on the flat of his back and had wrestled the bottle from his grasp, looking around in mild confusion, as if totally unaware of how he'd ended up in this position. Sara lifted his head and looked up at Scylla, who was currently perched atop him like he was a cushion, drinking his wine.

Oh hell no! Lips peeling back in a threatening snarl to show off rows of jagged teeth, Sara sat up and lunged for the bottle, trying to pry it back from her grasp—but ultimately missing, having reached instead for a blurry mirage in his swirling vision instead of the actual bottle. He flopped back to the ground, gazing at his empty paw with abject bewilderment. "Get the fuck offa me," he growled out, attempting to reach up and wrap Scylla in his strong forelegs so he could reverse them and try to pin her to the ground. She'd struck first, now he'd be able to fight back—and Saracyn wasn't shy about hitting a girl.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"