THE SAINTS WE SEE ARE ALL MADE OF GOLD;
Svanerna was experienced to say the least. The bitch was a whopping seven years old and not getting any younger. She could feel that her muscles were getting tighter and her joints make a little popping sound when she got up first thing in the morning. It was obvious the woman had to start staying in shape. Runs were needed. More hunting perhaps. But most of all, fighting. It seemed many were afraid of battle in the lands but she knew where she could find the knights and warriors of Alacrica. She was a fair fighter. There was no point in fighting dirty if it was but a spar. But, in the real world. The fae would slaughter anyone before they got to the point of her own death. As any sane Wolf would do. Sure, she had her moments where she indeed questioned her own motives and thoughts, but the dark bitch was very much sane. If she were to hold her own in the world she was going to have to get a grip on fighting again, even if that meant practicing daily. But, she was not stupid. The woman would not waste away her energy by wearing down her body. She was the Beta of Covari and she had duties to fulfill. The woman entered the battle lands with a face lack of any expression. She was not one to show emotion to stranger. The elegant vixen slithered her way further into the lands. The air was brisk of late winter. Snow fluttered from the cloudy skies. It was cold but not freezing like the north. Though, a little cold did not hurt the German femme. As she got deeper and deeper into the lands of warriors a scent filled her nose. Not a stale one like the others, but fresh. It was a boy. That was just as she heard a very close howl. Though, as she turned to her left she saw him. An ebony boy. He was taller then her. But, that did not bother her one bit. The older lady let her head raise and her tail as well. Svanerna gained way on him quickly, but she stopped a good few feet away from him. The black, white, and crimson female dipped her head. Her dark vocals filled the air, "If it is a fight you want then it is a fight you will get." the gods chanted her name She watched him closely. But her voice filled the air softly, "Tyr, lassen keine Leben genommen und nur Blut vergossen werden." It was a prayer to the God of War, Tyr. Yet, as she finished the little song the fae got into place. Her tail was erect, her beautiful metallic eyes narrow, lips curled up exposing alabaster incisors, hackles puffed up into rolls of fatty and rough skin, her knees bent, claws dug into the ground, also making her paws spread, her core tightened, the woman tucked in her head to protect her neck, and her ears flattened against her ebony skull. The woman was ready for battle, but was he? She knew he was younger and perhaps much more inexperienced then her. She would allow him to gain the upper hand with the first move. But, that did not mean she would go easy on him the entire fight. Even if it was but a spar. Her icy voice flew into the air, quickly. "Your go." Was he a mouse or a man? |