Parce Qu'ils Croient

In the time that he had allotted her with his warning, she was quick to take advantage of it. Pulling herself upright into a partial sit in an effort to get herself off the ground. But she still find time to pull a rather crude joke at his expense. “Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” He jabbed at her, though he was plainly amused himself. If his masculinity was in question, he held no reservations in reassuring her of it. “I would be happy to remind you of my balls anytime.” He jeered. It was mostly a joke, but a suggestive one at that- though, he didn’t much care how well it landed. When he caught the skin of her shoulder in his teeth, it did bring him some sense of satisfaction. He made an attempt to shove himself over the top of her, in order to maintain the higher ground, though he was too slow on the draw. Before he could find his place, she fought for the ground to right herself into a standing position. A move he wouldn’t contest too harshly. Without putting real force into his bite, the flesh he held slipped out of his grasp with her movement. Even still, he would have released his hold to answer her mockery. The banter was nearly as congenial as the spar itself. “You could say that. Vengance is an idiot’s game, Absinth … but I’m ready to play.” He answered, with a mischievous glint to his calculating amber gaze. What would be the next move?

As she stood up, he lunged- though with a very different intention in mind. If he could make the angle at her side, he’d try and dive beneath her, forcing himself in the space where her chest cleared the ground. If he could force her off her paws by picking her up on his shoulders- or at least knock her off balance once again- he would certainly make the effort. To accomplish what? He wasn’t certain. Where would their spar end up, he didn’t really know that either. But it was mildly entertaining, to say the least.

1508 / 1500
"Aresenn Praetor"