Demons Never Die [Meeting]

Boiling blood, racing heart, these were the things that encompassed him. Cadaverous and dangerous he seethed in his hatred. Ramification had come on swift wings, those baring angelic wings of his graceful sister and he could not have been more pleased; here she were; a woman of prowess and elegance ready to fight for all that was hers. Ready to stand and defend. There would be no denouncing her words, for it was not what they had come here to do, this would be a quick, merciless, and bloody fight. This would be the fight of the century. Blood versus blood in an unholy altercation. It was, arguably, the most toxic battle any had witnessed and any would witness. The blood, the profuse amount that would roll from the stone they stood on, o how abound and beautiful it would be. show me what it's like to love.





Legs staggered out and the king's tail threw back as a counterweight, his balance trailed between all of his limbs and his head fell low, placing his entire body in one straight line, in alignment with his spine. Ears pinned, quickly, against his red skull, and his eyes zeroed in on her bodice. No going back, sister? No, very well. Warmed body and elevated heart rate, the king knocked his chin back towards his chest and protected his vitals. There would be hell to pay in this fight, and it seemed as both were willing bidders. He just prayed that she remembered; she had asked for this.



One thing he utilized against her; his size. Say your prayers. The man's frame burst forward, chest aiming to press into her mid chest, or muzzle, given the positioning of her face, and of her smaller stature. Knees bent, slightly to improve balance, the giant would pivot to his own right at about a 45 degree angle and would attempt to send his teeth barreling for her left ear. Nails clicked, noisily, against the stone they fought upon, and with a, hopefully, successful attack he would force his weight forward to propel her off of the great rock. This ends tonight, Chrysanthe. Passion, it suited him, quite well, too well. Right fore-limb would, simultaneously, attempt to slam into the side of her left fore-limb and unbalance her. During said attack, balance would transfer to his left, equalizing between his remaining three limbs. Finally, shoulders would surge forward, surrounding his neck in bountiful fur and fat, giving him an impenetrable wall.