The Offer on My Head, Still Stands

While his own canines made contact in the loose skin of her scruff, it simply wasn’t enough to gain the leverage that he had wanted. He had hoped that the impact of his weight into the joint of her jaw would have been enough to dissuade her- or at least set her off balance, though she was stubborn. Or determined- more like it. Instead, she took advantage of what he had offered up to her, sinking her hold. As he felt her start to apply a visceral amount of pressure, he was struck with disbelief in his flash of realization. She wasn’t going in with the mindset of a spar- a display of her skillset. She was out for blood. Bitch. Though, he had to commend her for her tenacity.

With as much tearing force as he could apply to the more elastic flesh of her neck, Aresenn attempted to pull her into him. He thrust his shoulder forward, angling his entire body at a shallow angle- the shoulder that Absinth had maintained her hold in as an effort to alleviate what little tension he could. He anchored himself in his hind legs, using his hips to set himself with a broadened base, and his opposite foreleg to try and help maintain balance as he put his entire weight into trying to keep her close. It was a tug-of-war of flesh, and as he felt his own muscles tearing in her grasp, he had resigned himself to the truth that the scavenger girl might get a piece of his sorry pelt prematurely to their original agreement. He’d have to remind her of that.

"Aresenn Praetor"