compliment your sorrow (festival spar)

Kapras?us was not a violent man by nature. Though he grew aroused at the promise of sacrifice and pain, he was rarely the one to actually spill the blood. He was certainly more of a lover than a fighter, but the promise of a tournament had piqued his interest. Despite his age, he had yet to perfect his fighting skills, and knew there was no time better than now to practice and stretch his admittedly narrow skills.


He would find his partner standing in wait, an older woman who looked thoroughly depressed at best. "Why the long face, beautiful?" he would tease as he made his way toward her, his voice brimming with unwarranted jest. Though he was practiced in this tongue, his lyrics were still heavy with a thick accent. Laughter danced in his green gaze as he moved toward her, the slender brute light on his paws, poised as though he might pounce without warning. "Ladies first," he would tell her with a chuckle, arching his neck gently toward the ground as he bowed to her, paws spreading as he evenly spread his weight on all four paws, bracing for an attack.