Dance with the devil

By the gods, did this cretin know how to run his mouth! Alastor had never met such an incessant, obnoxious, loudmouthed prick before in his entire life! Every barbed word was carefully crafted and delivered with just the right amount of smugness to infuriate him, and knowing that this bastard had been mating with his wife was just the worst part of all. Black lips peeled back from pearly fangs, vicious snarls pouring from the ebony dire wolf as he swung for Kavik, then swung again and again, gemstone claws extended and seeking to rend the flesh of his opponent. Alas, Kavik was much more agile than his muscular form let on. Maybe it was his rage or his homesick fatigue catching up to him finally, but Alastor could not land a blow on him, try as he might. Kavik ducked beneath his swipes, dodged to the side when he went to bite or pounce him. And worst of all—he did not engage him back. The two of them were locked in a dance in the woods, with Alastor advancing on Kavik and Kavik expertly maneuvering out of the way.

The stalemate between the wolves was eventually broken when Alastor landed another swipe on Kavik's leg, earning a yelp from his opponent as his claws cut through his thigh and tripped him over. Alastor wasted no time seizing his opportunity to pounce, landing directly on top of Kavik and moving to press his paws to the other wolf's chest to pin him. One giant paw slid up to rest against the other male's throat, blood red gemstone claws extending out to press into his tender flesh in a grim warning. Violence smoldered in the dark depths of Alastor's eyes as he loomed over the fallen Kavik, spittle falling from his bared teeth while snarls and growls rumbled in his throat. "The only reason I haven't torn your throat out and fed it to you is because I know Manea has a soft spot for you. But don't think I won't rip your entrails out and leave your corpse on the beach for the crabs if you dare push your luck with me again."

WC: 363
Total: 1666 / 1500


"Alastor"