something strange had begun to overwhelm the yearling. like an itch he couldn't scratch, it tormented him, making his skin crawl and his temper flare. it took a long while for the boy to realize it, but as he began to traverse across the blood-stained plains, littered with the carcasses of fallen animals and swarmed with vultures, circling overhead and searching for their next meal, it became all too clear. blood. he wanted blood. someday he would slay the woman that had killed his father. oh yes, he had promised himself this much, even though the more he considered it, his father had been a foul being. the only warmth had emanated from his mother, who had since gone missing; never from kaios. and yet he swore he would tear that orange wolf's heart from her very chest, and deliver it to his mother, proof of his sworn loyalty to her, his appreciation. he felt bile bubble up in his throat as he sidelined around a heavily decayed wolf, eying the flies that swarmed the rotting creature from a safe distance. heavy paws took him further into the lands, the flat plains that seemed to go on endlessly. he had never fought before, and yet he felt drawn here, wanting so badly to test his strength. he was already quite massive, but knew he was inexperienced. hoping an equal enemy would answer his call, the dark-furred male named basilisk raised his head to the sky, letting loose a commanding howl. he was not willing to fight an experienced wolf, but also was not so cruel to steal a pup from a mother's den and tear it to pieces. no, he wanted a fair fight .... at least, this time.

. . .

The boy took a long whiff of the surrounding lands. One scent prevailed about the others - blood; sweet, matallic, tangy. The place was stained in it.

The white wolf's features were fixed in the birthings of a snarl - just a hit of wrinkle to his nose, a hit of fang to his muzzle. It was clear, youth or not, that the boy fully understood what sort of land he was walking into. But Cross had resigned himself to a violent death long ago. All that was left to the fates was where and when. However, he preferred to have it later than sooner, and in order for that preference to have any weight, he needed to keep training, keeping pushing himself, keep honing his skills in any way possible. Cross had the benefit of a long bloodline of warriors. His mother was a vetran of a Far Northern war, who'd taken off the head of the demon Xy and planted it on the peak of Mt Animi. His father was a silent beast from the Far North who'd been born with ice in his veins. The kid had alot going for him - but also alot to live up to.

Hence the reason \why he had chosen to come here. He was looking for a new oppoenant with new weaknesses and new skills and new style. Preferably someone who was a little more advanced than his siblings and cousins, but not at the expert level of his adult packmates. He wasn't looking to be turned into roadkill. The youth clung to the shadows and edges, listening and scenting carefully, as intent to find the right opponent as he was to stay out of the way of the wrong ones.

That was when he heard the howl. It was masculine and deep enough to denote size, but young enough to be exactly what Cross was looking for. Hitching up his pace to a sway-backed trot, he lowered her head and pinned back his ears to slink off towards the source.

-Which soon enough turned out to be a fellow young male. The other boy was robust looking, and large by any standard by Cross's. Then again, Cross was from a family of huge wolves who had a habit of being born leggy. At a year old, Cross was 33-34 inches tall, but very skinny and lanky in portion. In fact, had it not been for the fluffiness of his coat he would've more resembled some freakish white coyote than the Timber/Arctic cross he was. Given another year he would gain the remaining 3-4 inches and his muscles would all fill out proudly, but even so, he was larger than any yearling had a right to be. However - Cross was pleased to observe - so was his new opponent.

Emerald eyes analyzed the other wolf, looking for hints at balance and form, ah but Cross was still too inexperienced to be any master at that. For the most part all he saw was the obvious - rare purple eyes, fur so black it glinted violet, and a potential for bear-like size revealed in the width of those paws he stood on rather impatiently.

Briefly Cross wondered about him. What path had lead another yearling male to seek the battlefield? Like Cross, was he a soul troubled from the sight of too much red work done in the night? The ivory youth had no love for strangers, but there was just enough of the child in him to still be curious. He wasn't here looking for a confidant or a friend (though he had to admit this boy reminded him strongly of his cousin Kairos, whom he considered his only brother-in-arms). He was here looking for someone to train with. A rival. An opponent. They would talk later when they were licking their wounds - Assuming the other lad didn't have death on his mind. Cross was prepared to be as gentle or as sharp of fang as the other wished. He'd let him take the lead in the dance.

They had had enough time to look the other over. Now, without a word, Cross widened his stance, letting his supple joints bend slightly, and one foreleg slide forward. His ears flicked back. His tail raised proudly. It was a clear invitation.

. . .

basilisk was not forced to wait for long. he wondered, ever so briefly, what the worse case scenario might be. perhaps a wicked beast might come and overpower him, and threaten to take his life? but no, he would run before then -- he was not so stupid as to willingly to sacrifice his life. something like pleasure shone in his gaze, purple eyes blazing with life as his enemy approached him. it was the first time in a great while that he had felt anything at all. he shifted from one paw to the other, sizing up his opponent. his tongue slid from his maw, gliding slowly over his canines, waiting. he knew how sweet the taste of blood was, but was wolf blood as delicious? perhaps even more so? only time would tell. the male was silent, never offering a word. basilisk was grateful, for he had nothing to say. there was little use in exchanging names, for it was likely that they might never meet again after this day. luckily he was about the same size as him, give or take a few inches; it was nearly impossible to tell at such a distance. eyes narrowed as he stared the boy down, impressed when he did not flinch or back off. perhaps the best opponent that he could've hoped for! it seemed to be an equal match indeed. gaze continued to sweep over the boy -- he seemed to be the same age as he, not a child and yet not yet an adult. he was impressive in size, limbs lined with strong muscles. not quite as heavy-set as he was, but he didn't seem to lack his own strength. he wondered who this boy was, and where he was from. but truthfully, it didn't matter too much, and he didn't linger on it for long at all. he was far more concerned with beginning the fight. since he was the one who had invited a challenger, it was the other boy he had the right to choose the rounds, the stipulations of the fight. but none came. "no deaths or permanent maiming," he spoke clearly and simply, no emotion lingering in his tones. as a mere amateur, he was not yet considering all of the possible areas that cross could strike. his own stance stiffened, paws widening as he perfected his posture -- aiming to pounce. his mind was much more set on attacks, rather than defenses. perhaps he was a bit cocky, but he did not doubt himself as much as he ought to. tail was held out straight behind him as his hind legs kicked off from the earth, jaws parting as he attempted to grab cross by the scruff of the neck, aiming for the right side.

. . .

The darker youth seemed as reticent to speak as Cross. His only words were for a practical warning against the fight getting out of hand. "Agreed," Cross rumbled in reply to the terms. It was his first trip to the Battlefield and he was ignorant of most of its ways. Sort of made the whole thing more exciting though. A competitive spirit was let to breath and flame up inside the lad. In these precious seconds before the first clash, all was anticipation and nervousness mixing with enough raw desire for violence to kick start the young adrenal glands. They were just within pouncing range and Cross knew it. He had taken a more steady stance, and he wondered if the male would go immediately on the offensive, or if they'd have to end up hesitating awkwardly. Cross was more of a defensive fighter himself, but he didn't like waiting around - leading him to start plenty of the training matches with his siblings.

But his instincts were to be allowed to play their part this time. There was a flash of darkest violet and Cross had time only to duck his head and stiffen as the other creature landed his attack. Quick as flame, Cross's facial expressions changed from stoic to snarling. He felt the teeth sink down into his neck, but it was only a mouthful of scruff. Course it still hurt like heck - dozens of pearly white daggers digging into your flesh tends to do that- but it an area far less pain sensitive than most others.

Almost as soon as the first attack landed, Cross was countering with one of his own. Cross didn't try to pull back or yank free like most attacker's would expect. Quite the opposite. He pushed forward; bowling straight into the dark mass, hoping to catch the stranger off balance as he landed. Cross's teeth went for a hold of their own - hoping for the base of the neck or the chest. He didn't need a death grip, just a distraction of pain and a bite to keep the tally even. He was more concerned with his feet than his teeth - he plunged forward, attempting to wrap his forelegs around the purple youth so that they could go tumbling down together. It wasn't the precision move of a dancer, but the raw power of a wrestler. It fit him better.

. . .





Round One - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training

x.x

Defenses: widened stance and lowered head to make sure that Basilisk only got his scruff. Other than that, not much - still newbie fighter

x.x

Attacks: pushing forward and trying to wrap his forelegs around Bas's form (either just in front of or just behind the shoulders depending on how Bas reacts) and push him to the ground where he can try to wrestle and roll free. Also going in for a bite to Bas's chest or lower neck for good measure.

x.x

Injuries: Basilisk got to land the first attack with a bite to Cross's scruff. Not serious.

x.x

notes: the attacks/defense/injuries thing isn't really supposed to be judge-worthy or anything, just practice for me and clarity for Nyx ;)

he was ever-so grateful for the silence. it allowed his mind to focus keenly, nothing else even mildly capturing his attention than the giant boy before him. he felt something like rage begin to froth from within him, even though this stranger had done nothing at all to him. it was not at all a surprising emotion to feel, given he had come here for precisely this -- to taste the blood of another, to test his strength, to take note of and improve upon his weaknesses. he was rewarded rather quickly with a mouthful of fur. basilisk felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins instantaneously as he was rewarded with soft flesh, clasped between his jaws. but there was no blood, though he twisted his head to the side rather quickly as though he might be able to tear flesh so easily. but cross did not falter; instead, he heard a snarl fall from his opponent's lips, and he returned the noise with a fierce rumble of his own. expecting the boy to try to thrash away, he was surprised when instead he felt his weight push forward. grip slackening on the other's neck, his own body twisted backward as cross attempted to pummel free from his grasp, pushing forward into him. the noise of his growl increased, lips curling back and revealing the stained fangs beneath as he desperately sought to maintain his hold on cross's neck. his feet lost hold as cross continued to press his weight forward, finding his back paws losing their grip on the earth that he sought to maintain. his tail flagged out behind him as he stumbled, as though it might help him stay at least partially balanced. he felt teeth strike out at his own chest, and a brief snarl of pain left his lips. it was not at all pleasant, and his eyes blazed, vivid purple, as he writhed from side to side, trying to break free cross's hold. it was perhaps not the best idea -- he ought to mirror the other boy's own moves and try to push him forward -- but instinct took hold, and told him to get out of his grasp as soon as possible. he had lost his own hold on his opponent's neck, instead focused on tucking his head down to protect his throat. it was a useful idea, for cross seemed to outweigh him slightly, and he finally lost his footing completely, feeling his right side strike the earth as the two went tumbling down. ------------------------ Round One / ? - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training Defenses: tail out behind him for balance, head tucked down to protect neck Attacks: kept his hold briefly on cross's neck before losing footing Injuries: bite to chest, nothing major ; maybe some bruising on right side when he falls Notes: edited to add this bottom thing, nothing else -- sorry, my first spar on here! :) this is for fun anyway.

. . .


It took time -at one point they were a struggling, snarling form, dancing about on twin pairs of hind legs- but Cross succeeded into taking the violet brute down. Not straight down as he'd originally planned- but back and to the right. He'd even snagged in his bite to the chest - a hit so vital and distracting that the purple opponent had released the stinging clamp on Cross's neck in order to tuck chin and protect his own. With Cross's forelegs in a clawing bearhug, the two boys went down. But there was no real counter attack from the other brute. Cross could sense the waves of aggression rolling off him - more than any youth should have to feel, but it was clear that Cross had met someone who was no greater a fighter than he. They were both still learning. In an adult's fight, the violet boy would've been considered as making a terrible and possibly deadly mistake, but this was training for both of them - no matter how broodish and angry at the world they might be.

So Cross let go.

He released the slight hold he'd taken on the other's chest and leapt a few back-pedaled strides to the outer ring of the imaginary circle they'd clashed in. It wasn't meant as any sort of sign of shame or gentlemanly pity or anything silly like that. This was how Cross had been trained. When fighting his siblings or cousins they fought until someone was down. There was no point in beating a dead horse and there was no point in tearing at a downed opponent. Not in practice rounds anyway. Maybe Cross was also doing something that adults would call a mistake, but it made sense to him.

He hung just out of pouncing range, legs still splayed and head still hung low. Though the bridge of his nose was still slightly wrinkled, most of the snarl had left his face. All at once it had changed back to being wary, but stoic. His tongue hang out loose and long as he panted ever so slightly. "That the best you got?" The bland, 'cocky' words were meant to be ironic. He grimaced slightly as he rolled his shoulders and shook out his neck. -Dang that had smarted. He didn't have any embarrassing reflex tears did he?- Now that he'd shaken out of his shoulders, he lightened his feet, adjusting and readjusting their weight, mentally working to get them smooth and springy as viper's coils. The first round had gone to him, but he knew they were both only warming up. "Wolf who trained me said to not just think about what hold you want, think about what hold you'll have more control in." Bit of free advice. It wasn't delivered in any sort of pompous way; just two students sharing notes. Well it was Cross's turn to attack now - or so it seemed. He'd given the other male more than enough time to rise and get a stance. Perhaps he was even preparing an attack of his own. But now Cross darted forth, quick as the lightning which colored his pelt (or trying to be anyway).

He came in frontwise at full speed, his snarl reappearing while his neck bunched to protect his spine and ears tucked to protect his sense of hearing. His eyes had zeroed in on Basilisk's throat and just lower where the jugular lay. There was just enough distance to give the purple male time to really brace and tense, but Cross didn't seem to care. Hunger flared for a brief moment in those venom colored eyes. - But it was all a trick! A fient! At the last heartbeat he whipped sideways - bringing now his muzzle to try to snag a harsh bite to the top of the purple male's left fore right where it reached the belly. It wasn't a hold he wanted though - just a snap - what would've translated to a tearing and ripping of flesh had this been the real thing. Whether he got it or not, Cross would keep running past the male before he circled round, prepared to deal with the next attack and/or drink in his victory. It was part of what he'd been saying earlier. Of course all wolves wanted to go straight for the throat, but a paralyzing blow to a leg? Or a rip at an artery? That spelled defeat just as easily. A painful lesson Cross had learned from his Uncle's story. It was also why he'd been making extra sure of his light footing earlier. There were things going on that both the fighters could pick up on - to help them with the coming blows, but Cross was still getting used to the ways of this stranger and visa versa


. . .

Round Two - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training

x.x

Defenses: neck bunched, ears tucked back, was kneading his paws and honing his balance while he talked so that he'd be quicker on the slight course correction

x.x

Attacks: charging forward at full speed as if going for throat, then changing targets and just trying to snap hard at Basilisk's left fore as he runs by

x.x

Injuries: the bite on his scruff - no new ones

x.x

notes: yeah - whoever judges this fight - this is going to be a little unorthodox, but should be entertaining

She'd slowly been able to regain focus, after a while. The thoughts of death and fascination with it had taken its sweet little time to filter through the reservoirs of her conscience but by the time it had taken its leave it had left in its wake an odd impact. The insatiable itch for blood still lurked in her toes and no amount of scraping the rounded digits across the ground while she walked made it go away. One would think that the gal would be used to the feeling that had plagued her since she had won leadership of Ludicael in a small bracket of battles for the pack's ownership, but one who entertained this opinion was far from correct. It was relentless. Suffering from thirst but never dying, only pleading for blood and being sated only for a short while once it greedily drank of it. As she'd been soaked in the crimson of Kaios' massacred throat it had lessened. But never had it disappeared.

Celestial optics focused on the two figures on the battlefield, neither immediately familiar. Posture straightened and curiosity piqued as they seemed to be initiating a spar. As she drew more near, still dismal in her placement, she couldn't suppress the furrow of her brows as a single figure did indeed begin to hold a familiarity in her memory. The dark brute of partially alabaster tones held an oddly-colored sheen upon his pelt drew back memories from the death match and she realized that the last time she'd seen the beast, he'd been much smaller. And sitting by his mother, Newt. Watching Jupiter kill his father.

The queen did no pause until she was a good ten yards away, eyes narrowed as she settled carefully onto her haunches, muscles taught and coiled, refraining to allow herself to get comfortable. The spar began and she kept her attention especially on the darker yearling, attentively observing his movements and cataloging his technique into the depths of her memory. He was nearly as large as she, only two or three inches shorter, and would undoubtedly grow to rival or match his mother or father's size. She scoffed within the private confines of her mind as she thought of the young creature's ego growing with his size as his father's probably did, and could only fervently hope that the child turned out to be nothing like his sire.

A girl could dream, couldn't she?

"speech"

for an instance, he wished desperately he'd paid more attention to the specifics of the fight between the orange-furred bitch and his father. but no, he had been too caught up in his own anger and hatred. funnily enough, it was that which had led him here, to seek out an opponent of his own. and it was his distraction at that fight that caused him to falter here. luckily, it was simple practice -- he was not stupid enough to put himself in such a situation, knowing that he all but lacked experienced in terms of fighting. a snarl ripped from his chest as his right side collided with the earth, the impact briefly taking the air from his chest and stunning him for a few painfully long seconds. he felt the other boy's paws clambering to wrap around him, to further push him down -- and the move succeeded. luckily, the fall brought a surge of rage through him, causing his purple eyes to burn with a fire that seemed as though it might never extinguish. luckily, the other loosened his hold on his chest, and basilisk took little time in leaping to his paws. despite the fall, he felt strong and ready as he regained his balance. this boy was giving him a fair fight, but he understood it was only practice -- perhaps an adult would've continued to pin him down, but cross was not seeking an easy win. his ego had not been battered, but he knew he needed to focus. 'that the best you got?' he chided, not too arrogantly -- basilisk felt a smirk curl his lips. he liked this male already, and he rarely felt little more than irritation towards strangers. particularly males. "as if," he chuckled, the sound low but audible. it was a strange thing, to feel respect for an opponent in a fight -- but he couldn't help but feel like the boy was someone he might get along with. the sudden rush of camaraderie at the free advice was evident with the way he eyed the brute carefully, his own snarl fading from his lips. out of the corner of his eye, he saw something then -- a flash of orange fur that made hate well up in his chest. could it really be... ? he grimaced, refusing to turn and find out if it was the woman he thought he was. perhaps she was more awful than he thought. not only had she slain his father, but she was here now -- watching him. if only she knew how badly he longed to rip her throat out, to slash at her miserable chest and tear her still-beating heart from her writhing body. the thought made his smirk appear, but still he held his concentration, refusing to let anyone ruin this practice. sure that cross would spring before long, basilisk widened his stance and rolled his shoulders forward, keeping his neck tucked downward, trying to cover some of his chest as well as his neck. the attack was not surprising, but the sidelining was. though he attempted to swing himself to the right to avoid the attack, but he was not as fast as he anticipated. he put most of his faith in his size, rather than his strength -- he made a mental note to work on on running when this fight was over. the hold was enough to send a smaller male sprawling, but he winched and braced himself against the impact. even if he had tried to take him down, basilisk was intent on sending the other boy down too -- swiftly his jaws parted and sought to grab hold to one of cross's hind left legs, swinging his body around to the left as cross zipped past him. ------------------------ Round Two / ? - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training Defenses: head tucked low, paws spread out to stabilize himself, shoulders rolled forward Attacks: attempting to snag cross's hind left leg at the joint Injuries: nip to his upper left front leg Notes:

. . .



Cross was more or less oblivious to the lurking dash of mottled orange off to the side. His focus was on the fight. In every twist of muscle and gleam of fang and beat of heart. He was a sober-minded youth, with a mind genetically tilted towards the art of war, so it wasn't too difficult for him. His blast past the violet opponent was quick, but not quite quick enough - he felt the sharp needles of young wolf's teeth land on a hock as it was kicked into the air with his running. But the same momentum tore the leg free and the attack had only landed for a heartbeat. The speed tore the skin, and first blood went to Basilisk. It was curious, Cross had expected it to hurt more. Funny, the actually act of bleeding didn't hurt. If anything it could release the pressure and ache of a bruise. What hurt was just the actual digging in. He'd have to log that little nut away for later.

Even though his foot was free however, he still had an angry he-wolf coming after him. If Cross had an edge on speed, it was only because of his prior momentum and the fact that Basilisk, in turning to the left, was turning the leg that had just been soundly bitten. Cross, was turning left too, however, bringing his frame out of the purple male's direct path. For a split second it looked like they couldn't been mirroring eachother - some strange grey and violet yin-yang sign - but then Cross was closing the distance, going back on the offensive.

His target was not a leg this time, but the other youth's back. Had Basilisk staid where he was when Cross bit his leg, Cross would've been directly behind him. As it was now however, Cross's quick turn meant he was coming up on the purple male's left broadside. There were always variables and things were moving pretty quickly for the yearlings, but Cross's plan was to spring forward - going up onto well planted hind legs to grasp for the purple male's form with his teeth. The skin just around the top of the ribcage was especially sensitive and ticklish - a bite there, even one that didn't go very deep, would not be a whole lot of fun. So lot as Cross was quick enough, his chest would also end up ramming into the other's side, not only helping to cement the white lad's attack but also protecting his vitals and throat. With ears pinned and claws scratching for a secure hold, he was prepared to take his opponent down a second time.



. . .

Round Three - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training

x.x

Defenses: to avoid the Bas's last attack: yanking foot away from Basilisk, continuing running, and veering off to the left so that he's no longer directly in front of those teeth. to aid his own attack: ears still pinned, hind legs spread, hoping to get to stabilize his form with leaning on/grasping Bas with his forepaws, also trying to push his chest and neck close to Bas, partly to help with hold, partly to protect them.

x.x

Attacks: Twisting back around to go for Basilisk's left side, his intent is to plant his teeth into Bas's back, just over where the ribs branch out from the spine. The claws of his forepaws, as he scramble forward for a hold, are also an attack in and of themselves. And he isn't just dropping his teeth down gently - his whole weight is coming behind this and the front of his chest is ramming into the purple male's side.

x.x

Injuries: bite to the scruff, now also bite to the hock - in yanking it away it broke the skin

x.x

notes: I'm having fun with this >:3

with every second that passed, the yearling felt more energy surge through him; despite the throbbing pain of his right side and the few nips he'd accumulated on his chest and front leg. how nice it would feel to tear his fangs through this boy's throat, feel the blood gush from his veins and pour straight into his mouth. the adrenaline urged him forward, taunting him, making him crave more. but not from this other male -- no, he felt no real hatred toward him. the slight snarl that had found its way onto his features was purely a reaction to the practice fight, and would disappear as soon as it ended. however, he was rewarded with a bitter taste in his mouth as his teeth snagged cross's hock, tearing the skin there ever so slightly as he ripped away from his grasp. the taste of iron was subtle, so slight, and yet how dearly he wanted more. but the other creature had tore himself away rather quickly, perhaps startled by the tearing of flesh that had been unexpected for both of them. as though they were moving in perfect synchronicity, cross swung his body to the left, and basilisk followed suit. he knew the male was aiming for his side. he only had a split second to consider his next move, but not long enough -- he felt cross's fangs sink into his flesh, not aiming to maim, but simply hurt. and hurt it did. a snarl fell from his lips as he planted his paws firmly on the earth, trying to stabilize himself as he felt cross's weight bearing into his side. his tail swung up behind his back, attempting to offer him a bit of balance. having learned from his previous mistake, instead of ripping away -- and potentially falling to the earth or ripping the flesh that cross had a hold off -- instead he moved in the opposite direction, pushing his weight back against cross's. not necessarily aiming to knock him over, but simply keep his own self upright and perhaps loosen the hold a bit. ------------------------ Round Three / ? - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training Defenses: legs spread to balance self, tail curled above back Attacks: pushing back against cross, not likely to hurt him though, just so he doesn't fall Injuries: bite to chest, bruising on right side from falling, nip to upper left front leg, nasty bite to his left side above his rib cage, Notes: <3

. . .



The purple male didn't fall under the barrage of attacks, but neither did he hasten to give a counter attack. Cross had been expecting his opponent to immediately start trying to sidestep, or spin his haunches around or at least curl his head back and start snapping at white and cream fur. But in those first precious seconds after Cross's attack landed, there wasn't any of that. The violet youth seemed too consumed with just keeping himself from going down again, but it meant that he wasn't trying to regain and control he was giving the white attacker a free pass at continuing to do damage to his back. If this had been the real deal, that could've meant a bite for the spine - slashing claws raking down taunt sides. It could spell serious injuries, and Cross, though no where near as fast the warriors he'd grown up around, recognized this.

But he didn't press that advantage or anything. Just like before when he'd taken Basilisk to the ground, he switched tactics as soon as he knew his attack was successful. It was the same now. He didn't seek more blood or ripping or anything like that, but he did get a particularly wicked idea.

Perhaps Cross's opponent hadn't had as much training as he had, or perhaps he hadn't had enough big siblings to push him around and teach that if he didn't keep trying and piling on attacks he was gonna get whupped. Cross's snarl twisted into a rare mischievous smile. Basilisk had leaned into his attack, all his effort going into staying upright and steady - well perfect. Cross would use that. His forepaws had landed on the back, well now Cross was pushing off with his hind legs, leaping up and hopefully onto the purple youth's back. "Look!-I'm king a' the world!" he shouted in a wobbly bark.

Whether or not it would really land or even if Basilisk would be able to hold up under the surprise and weight for more than a split second was anyone's guess. Maybe he would keep his cool and be able to just twist and throw the white youth head over heels, - or maybe they'd crumble down together in a heap of legs and paws and teeth. Whatever happened, Cross would try his hardest to keep his paws planted and tail out. Even if he did pull it off for a heartbeat or two, Cross was gonna get his butt handed to him for this. But he didn't care. This was more fun than he'd had in a whole season!






. . .

Round Four - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training

x.x

Defenses: didn't really have anything to defend against from the last round, and for his current attack his only defense is trying to stay light on his feet, and keeping his tail out for balance.

x.x

Attacks: leaping on top of Basilisk's back - probably won't last very long, but it might do some damage if they all fall in a heap

x.x

Injuries: prior: bite to scruff, shallow tear at hock. new: n/a

x.x

notes: I couldn't resist XD just some technical tips though: if you don't say something about a mentioned attack (like Cross's scratching forepaws from the last round) then the judges immediately assume that it landed the full damage.

This feeling was new to Basilisk, and he found himself savoring every second of it, despite the dull ache in his side and bruising he'd accumulated on his chest, side, and foreleg. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he felt ecstatic at the high. Perhaps this was indeed his calling in life -- to fight, tooth and nail. The faint stench of blood that seemed to surround the duo was no longer nauseating, but instead intoxicating, and he found himself craving it so badly. Still he did not direct his attention to the orange-furred bitch who stood nearby. He knew now who she was, but why she had came here, he was not so sure... he would deal with her later. For now, his attention was focused intently upon Cross, and their colliding bodies. He knew he had a few options -- to back off, but that had proved stupid earlier; to try to keep himself upright; or try to grab hold of him somehow. He'd taken the safest route, at least in his mind. But alas, how he was mistaken. Basilisk felt the pressure of his opponent's paws on his back. Surprisingly, the male landed -- clinging awkwardly to his back. 'Look!-I'm king a' the world!' He hadn't had so much fun in awhile, and he snarled loudly in protest, though it was more playful than threatening. He wasn't used to horsing around so much; he had never been particularly physical with either of his siblings, so this was new for him. Knowing he would go down rather quickly if he let Cross continue to -- well, ride around on his back -- he decided to flail about a bit, hoping it would knock the boy off. At the very least, if he went down, Cross would too. He whipped himself around dramatically, finding the movement rather difficult with such a large boy on his back. His felt his spine give in to the attacking boy's weight, but tried to keep his paws planted firmly with each movement. He would try once more, swinging his hips dramatically and whipping his head to the side, hoping desperately it would send Cross toppling to the ground. ------------------------ Round Four / ? - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training Defenses: paws planted, body moving quickly to knock cross off his back Attacks: nothing except trying to send him to the ground Injuries: bite to chest, bruising on right side from falling, nip to upper left front leg, nasty bite to his left side above his rib cage, maybe some soreness from Cross landing on his back Notes:

. . .


Cross managed to hold on for a surprising among of time. His balance was quite advanced for a yearling. But it was always just a matter of how long? and how bad the fall would be at the end. The violet youth twisted and writhed, bucking like a bronc beneath him. Cross, might?ve grabbed at the tempting scruff and worked at tackling the other boy down with him, but no, he was panting hard enough as it was. He let himself half fall half slide from his twisting perch. He rolled with the momentum to avoid any bruising ? it wasn?t that much of a fall really ? but he didn?t bother trying to scramble up quickly enough anyway. It had seemed to him like the other boy, though not having any lack of willpower and potential, wasn?t as fierce or aggressive an attacker as Cross had been expecting.

That was just fine though. Cross himself was a long way from the grand warrior he hoped to be, and they were both still just yearlings. The white male lay on his back ? cream colored underbelly rising and falling as he sucked in lungfulls of air. He had more or less won that round too, but again he didn't press his advantage, and he unconsciously trusted his oppoenant not to try to rip at him while he was down. Firey they both might be, they'd been civilized enough with their fighting - well - up until Cross decided to play king of the hill. His green eyes rolled back and he let out a chuckle -a real good chuckle- at the thought. This had been fun. He needed to catch his breath but he wouldn't mind trying again. Seemed like he could teach the purple eyed bruiser a couple tricks, and Cross himself could always use an exercise to help him work on his endurance. (He was yet to perfect it - as shown by his current spent state)

"I'm Cross, by the way-," he said, still upside down and panting, "-son of Cifer and Crusade; Old Glaciem warriors." The boy was proud of his hertiage, but his words weren't tipped in pride, they were simply a formality, one that the other youth had earned by now.



. . .

Round --- - Cross vs. Basilisk - Freestyle Training

(on pause - unless Bas attacks Cross while he's down)

x.x

Defenses: ---

x.x

Attacks: ---

x.x

Injuries: prior: bite the scruff, shallow cut on hock

x.x

notes: I'm kinda starting to love these two

He wondered vaguely how sore he might be in the morning; because right now, he wasn't feeling much pain, mostly fatigue. Still his muscles were tense, his body alert, as he managed to throw Cross off his back. Only briefly did he stumble as the large weight fell off his back, but his paws kept him upright, even if unsteadily. There was no motion to attack Cross then, as his opponent had backed off when he'd fallen and let him get back up. He reeled around to face him, panting quite heavily himself. The fall would do little damage, but at least he was no longer clinging to Basilisk ad trying to knock him down as well. Instead he watched as Cross remained there. It seemed Basilisk had inherited something from both his father and mother, a darkness in his heart that seemed to taunt him and tease him. The creamy white fur of his underbelly was tempting, and he wondered how it would feel to sink his teeth into flesh so soft, rather than nipping at his leg or scruff -- but he drew his mind away. Control was something Kaios had lacked, and thus far Basilisk had been proving to be different from his father in this way. Would it last? He was not sure; but he remained firmly planted on the ground, waiting for the other to catch his breath while he, too, panted heavily. The boy finally introduced himself, as it seemed their fight had paused -- or even ended. Cross, son of Cifer and Crusade. From Old Glaciem. All foreign to him. "Basilisk Saxe," he introduced himself as well. Not an honor he gave to many. "Son of Newt Saix and Kaios. Old Amenti." Seemed they both had something in common, besides their drive to fight, their need for blood -- their packs had been overturned or abandoned entirely. Briefly he wondered Cross's story, but withheld his questions for now, wondering if he would respond favorably. He knew his father's legacy had survived well past his death, and it was not necessarily a good one.

. . .



Cross rolled over onto his bellow and elbows, his ears perking forward to show their yellow fluff. "Kaios." The name slipped quietly from his muzzle. It was obvious he had heard it before, but aside form that neither his eyes nor his voice betrayed anything. He was looking at the other boy intently, now from a slightly more defensible position. He knew it! The dark coat. The purple eyes. Why hadn't the thought pressed itself further into his mind before? The boy before him bore a striking resemblance to his cousin-er-well- nephew really, Kairos. The son of the black, half-faced wolf who'd forced himself on Keki. None of the pups had born any of the blame - they were all full pack members and family members. They had no control over the instances of their conception. But... but this male didn't say it like it was a bad thing. Almost as though he were proud of it. Or maybe Cross was mistaken.

Thoughts swirled behind implacable green eyes. He resisted the urge to ask: 'Was your mother raped to?'. No matter how innocent the direction of the inquiry there, that wasn't bound to go over well. Cross only knew a fraction of what his older packmates knew of the purple eyed beast, and even that was scanty at best. For now, he would not go making enemies of people just over their father's name - especially since Cross had been starting to like this other youth.

So instead of bringing up the possiblity of old wounds, Cross lounged back slightly and managed a half smirk. "Well, then it's nice to meet you cousin." The lad gave a lazy flop of his tail. "You're the half brother of one of my family members." That smirk grew into a rather cocksure grin. "Now I'm glad I didn't squash yah."





. . .

For Basilisk, it was difficult to fall into the label of 'friend' or 'enemy.' In between these two categories was a massive grey area, where most creatures he had met fell; he often felt numb to the friendly gestures of others, and even strangely unfazed to cruelty displayed by some wolves. Somehow, Cross had managed to become one of the few wolves Basilisk trusted -- even if only superficially. Slowly he reclined to his haunches, feeling the dull ache of his injuries as this body begun to relax, and adrenaline stopped coursing through his veins. He had no need to vocalize it, but if it had been a real spar, Cross would've kicked his ass. It was likely the boy had been given more training than he. Part of him wished his father had spent more time with him, training him, teaching him things. But alas, he had been forced to grow up mostly alone. Even when his mother had been around, she had never been as ... there as he had wanted her to be. He wondered briefly where his sister was, wishing badly he could be physically near her again. He felt as thought hat might solve all of his problems, but he knew that was so far from the truth.. Purple gaze watched Cross as he rolled over, listening to his declaration. He would not have been surprised if the boy hadn't known his father's name, and yet it was not at all surprising that he did. Basilisk swore he saw judgement begin to well in Cross's eyes, and he narrowed his eyes and lowered his head ever so slightly. But instead, and quite gladly, he was rewarded with a different attitude. 'Well, then it's nice to meet you cousin. You're the half brother of one of my family members.' Curiosity made his eyes open fully again, watching his new ally with a carefully guarded expression. "I didn't know I had any half brothers," he said slowly, though he was not exactly surprised by the fact. He'd heard rumors that his father had taken advantage of numerous women, so this wasn't exactly news to him. However, what he hadn't known was that he had produced children. His own tail flicked behind him, though he was slightly on edge now, wondering. Part of him felt betrayed, but he knew why Kaios had hid such things from his family. But it made him wonder if he had cared for his mother at all. "How many are there?"

. . .


The other boy didn't exactly jump at the fact. Perhaps something of his father's darkness was known? If so - the boy was obviously still in the dark about the details. He didn't sound shocked, nor did he sound excited; Basilisk seemed to appreciate the situation and understand it's meaning. Good. That meant Cross wouldn't have to go into it. They were on the same page.

"Well, three that I know of. Sons of Keki, my adopted elder sister. Tiber and Peri have dispersed to go off wandering on their own, but Kairos is still around." Yeah the name was too similar for comfort. Cross didn't know what Keki had been thinking there. The poor kid already looked enough like the bastard that had sired him - why had she given him the name to go with? Cross didn't like to tell tales or dwell on such things -after all he might've just been imagining it- but it seemed like Keki was a little headshy of her dark pelted son. Cross didn't like it. Kairos was like him. The two of them were all that had stuck around of their litters, and, in Cross's mind at least, they were something like brothers-in-arms. They'd both been there that day. They'd seen the same things. Only with one important difference - Cross had been struck frozen with fear, while Kairos had had the guts to leap up and snap at their attack while shouting for him to run. Cross gave a mental shake of his head at the very thought. Whoever Kairos's father was, the boy was close kin in Cross's book.

A feeling which, might in time spread to this purple eyed youngster. A sentiment which sparked Cross's next words. His tone changed, growing a little quieter and a little more grim. He was being personal now. "Look, we've all got the burdens of being a legacy. Some of us just get heavier ones than others," he gave a casual shrug of black tipped shoulders. He'd only said a bit about who he was - and he was willing to tell more, but this at least hinted that he didn't have a heaven-worthy background either. Not in some ways at least. But he didn't dwell on the bad. The youth leaned back on one elbow and let the barest hint of a lazy grin lick his muzzle. "But I like you Basil; I hope you won't crack under yours." It was a rare display of good feeling - usually kept towards family. But then again, in a way, this youth was. Or could be if he chose it.



. . .

Basilisk pondered over this news for a long moment. Would his mother be angry if she knew that Kaios had fathered children other than he and his two siblings? Did he even have any idea? Perhaps he'd even had multiple litters across the lands. It was not surprising that, if Kaios had known, that he hadn't told his family, or bothered introducing them ... but still he felt cheated somehow, like he had deserved to know. A slight frown turned the corners of his lips downward, as he considered this new revelation. And yet, more news came -- there was not just one child, but three. Were they the same age as he? Had he sired these children while he'd been with his mother? Though Basilisk was no saint himself, the idea of his father running off while Newt was with children and impregnating more women didn't settle well with him. "So Kairos is pretty much your cousin?" Not by blood, of course, but by adoption. Which would mean, in turn, and he and Cross were sort of cousins -- just like he'd said. "Hm." And there were two more half-siblings running off somewhere, and potentially more... a possibility he had never really considered. Suddenly the conversation changed, and in a direction he wasn't totally comfortable with. 'Look, we've all got the burdens of being a legacy. Some of us just get heavier ones than others. But I like you Basil; I hope you won't crack under yours.' He shrugged his wide shoulders slowly, muzzle dropping a bit and gaze averting to the ground. Only briefly did he look back up at Cross, noting the slight grin he wore. "I watched my father die," he said gruffly. He had no interest in becoming like his father, had never aspired to be known as a beast who enjoyed raping women and killing wolves -- but he would not deny that he felt his sanity slowly slipping from him sometimes. How could he normal? He'd grown up watching his father dominate his mother, and watching her take the abuse willingly and even ... happily at times. His expression faltered slightly, memories consuming him for a moment and refusing to relinquish their hold on him. "I know my father was not a great man, but killing him was not a form of punishment. It simply ended his life. And punished my family in turn. We never deserved that." He was hateful, yes, and he believed he had the right to be. A slight snarl curled his lips, but faded as he glanced back at Cross, as though the male grounded him and brought his wandering mind back to reality. He rarely shared this kind of stuff with anyone, and he figured Cross was of a similar character, judging by how he'd acted thus far today.

Throughout the match, she sat--waiting and watching, and most importantly, listening. Oh, what interesting things her audits captured. Even at Basilisk's final words, her emotionless expression remained unchanging. There was a part inside of her that urged her to pity him, to apologize to him, to feel guilt for what she had done. But it that part was long dead and buried like the brute she had killed. She didn't know what it was like to see her parent die before her eyes--she wasn't present when she was orphaned. The lass could think about it but could by no means began to sympathize with him.



After a long moment she looked the brute over once more, examining his size and then the other that accompanied him. Then, Jupiter rose to her paws, and departed, having learned what she unknowingly had wished from her visit.



[ exit jupiter ]

TABLE + CODING BY TIFF

prone to violent reaction. ic actions have ic consequences and she lives and breathes it.

public enemy #1

crawl. crawl more. drag your hands and knees across the destruction left in my wake to the ends of the earth. there's a green light of a shining star in my sky and there will not be an obstacle i will not overcome until i cup that star in my palms. the void in my will has been filled with purpose. so crawl. crawl more, love.

because i like it when you're on your knees.

. . .



Cross?s attempt at agrim smile in the face of deep subjects was shortlived. As Basilisk started speaking again, the white and black youth returned to his normal, sober expression ? eyes still as searching and quiet as ever. Cross had seen horrible, sudden, bloody death. He?d heard pleading screams turn to silence and it had haunted the shattered remains of his childhood. But he hadn?t seen a parent ? or any a family member die. And for that he was grateful. ?Course with that first break into reality came the knowledge that eventually he very well could. Maybe they would be taken by age, maybe by sickness, maybe by nature ? all of which seemed preferable to being murdered by another wolf.

Cross could empathize greatly with the other male, and he demonstrated it through his listening body language, and yet? at the same time he could feel little sorrow for Kaios himself. Basilisk?s words ? so haunting and sincere ? were enough to make the young avenger take pause, though.

?I don?t know,? he murmured at last. ?I mean? I?m from a family of warriors who sought to defend those who couldn?t defend themselves from wolves who raped and killed. I remember my mother being angered with the Chief of our pack for the very fact that he did not go after Kaios when we learned he?d abused my sister.? There wasn?t anything accusing in the lad?s voice, just stating a fact. If fate had been twisted ever so slightly? Gargoyle might?ve been the one to kill Kaios and these two boys, instead of playing ?king of the world? and baring their souls, would?ve been at eachother?s throats for the sake of their respective families. Cross caught onto that fact, and however uncomfortable it might have made them, he was able to keep his gaze steady on the other other youth. ?I didn?t know your father. I can?t speak about him personally, but I?ve seen what a wolf can do when he decides he doesn?t care who he hurts or what he does so long as he gets his fix of blood. The world doesn?t need creatures like that.? And yet?. ?And yet, you?re right too. I don?t know if killing someone fixes anything. It just causes more pain. And after all ? I?m a descendant of a wolf who?d once held the title of a murderer ? until he met my grandmother and she gave him the strength to change his world around.?

His thoughts were moving at the same pace as his words. What if even the worst of wolves had some spark buried deep down? He didn?t know. His mother had told the story of the demon wolf Xy who had raped Crusade?s friend, attacked her pack, and finally ? even after she had saved his life once- killed her first daughter. Animi. The wolf that would?ve been Cross?s sister. Years later Crusade had finally confronted Xy. She lost an eye and he lost his head, and she had never been anything but grimly proud of the moment. But then at the same time?those horrible, horrible cries. Cross had seen the lights go out of the eyes of the murdererous rogue known as Sixx. He had been the brother to Cross?s packmate?s brother, Awaken. And ?brother? was exactly the word that Sixx had screamed and prayed before Awaken had impaled him on the broken shard of a pine branch.

Cross couldn?t help but sit on the fence, unable to pick a side. He looked bleakly into Basilisk?s features, wondering at what the other youth was thinking. Probably he was just as in the dark.






. . .