on the brink

"Many things to get lost in." She drags claws over the dirt, the grass. Her head lowers, and her own stance is defensive, because she wants to see the other woman's moves. "If you want it," she begins, "Come and take it." It is both admission and permission; an allowance of intimacy, but a fight first. A challenge, issued between smirking lips. Bylgja snaps, in turn, and spittle flies from her jaws as she kicks at the ground again, daring the other woman to make a move. It's showtime.