The Offer on My Head, Still Stands

Adrenaline immediately began to run through her veins, much to her delight. She hadn’t been able to sink her teeth into another wolf since arriving on this new land. It amused her to think that perhaps at the end of this fight, his red fur wouldn’t even look soiled with blood- it would merely blend into his natural coloring. And her? Oh her snowy coat would certainly be stained, white had a way of turning into a canvas for grime. Maybe they would both walk away with a piece of each other. An attractive thought to the blood thirsty girl.

Her attack was met with anger. Aresenn did not hesitate to retaliate. How blindsided had she left him? Was he not used to his kind of thing? Absinth could recall numerous times when her father had urges to taste her blood- then quickly shower her in affections and sweet words afterwards. She could apologize later if it was necessary but at the moment she needed to make this an interesting show for their purple spectator.

She could feel his growl through her teeth, a vibration from his anger making her lips crack out into a bloody smile as she held fast to the flesh. Good. He was playing the game, of course he would. It seemed to her that he had done a lot in order to keep Sephiran close, but why? Were they more similar than she had thought? Absinth was going to confront him later and question his motives. But first…

Aresenn’s counter was to try and force her to the ground, and gain his own hold on her scruff. They were nearly even in size, with Absinth falling short by a mere 2 inches; an important factor when it came down to a battle of brute strength. She was stubborn. Her limbs planted firmly to deny his attempt to bring her to the ground. If she went down it would be over, she’d be defeated in the ways that mattered - a boring sight. But she couldn’t hold out forever in this deadlock. Something had to give. Her jaw, the weight he was pushing down on her, his flesh, her’s. And it needed to be in her favor. She had to reign in control. So, instead she chose the route that would cause the most pain. For entertainment purposes, of course. Perhaps it would hurt so badly he’d ease off her scruff, and she’d be able to let go- or maybe he'd be able to break the stalemate. As he had pushed into her jaws more to cause strain, the calculated risk came into play; doing so had her fangs cut deeper into the chunk she had a hold of. Now she was truly cruel- she began to try and pull backwards. She sought to rend the piece from his body. His hold on her scruff being the only barrier that maintained the pain she was inflicting rather than the quick motion of ripping her target away - she would accept the damages he may do to her in the process so long as she got what she wanted here. I will have my pound of flesh Aresenn.

wormwood