spring dawns on a boy irrevocably changed, divorced from the child he’d been a mere season ago. like the melting of ice throughout Boreas, another layer of his innocence has seeped away, revealing a roughened exterior hollowed by grief and fear. as Styrmir picks his way through the undergrowth, he thinks of his family’s slow collapse, the strain of his pack under its new alpha, and his own internal treachery. he feels marked, as though his newly-formed bargain has stained in some obvious new way. that no one else can see it…it feels wrong, strange. they should be able to look upon him, his brothers and sisters, and see the darkness tainting his soul.

‘don’t be so dramatic,’ She purrs, her voice a sultry taunt in his ear. ‘it’s not as evil as all that.’ Styrmir grunts around the squirrel clamped between his jaws, dripping a trail of blood through the grass. ‘this is the right thing,’ she continues, soothing, as always, the doubts from his mind before they have a proper chance to take root. ‘you gave yourself to me, remember? there’s no taking it back now.’ her shrine comes into view, and Styrmir shifts the weight of his catch as he quickens his pace. it’s a shabby thing, made of a hollow tree stump, a layer of moss and several flat rocks. last season’s offering rots at its base, permeating the air with the stomach-roiling scent of death. Styrmir lays the squirrel down beside the carcass and rests a paw across its stomach. it’s body is still warm; he shivers. ‘ready?’ She goades, voice sharp with challenge. Styrmir scrunches his eyes and makes the first incision, working quickly to peel back the pelt in as clean a manner as possible. She laughs in his ear. ‘so squeamish, little one. you’ll grow out of it soon enough.’

there’s such certainty in his voice he doesn’t dare doubt her.

"Styrmir Trygg"

Illusion moved silently through the undergrowth, her steps light and deliberate; her mind set on her task. The memory of her last encounter with Styrmir still lingered vividly in her mind. It had been some time since her birthday, and she found herself drawn to the promise he had made. She had made her own. She would find out if his carried any weight to it.

As she navigated through the underbrush, her sharp eyes scanned her surroundings, always alert, always calculating. She could sense something different in the air, an undercurrent of tension that piqued her interest even further. She had caught his scent, now changed with the season, so she knew she was headed in the right direction. But she wasn’t a hunter.

Eventually, she came upon a clearing where Styrmir stood, engrossed in a peculiar… ritual of sorts. My, was he religious? Illusion paused, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. Styrmir's posture was tense, his movements careful. A hollow tree stump served as the focal point of his activity, its base littered with the remnants of a previous offering. The scent of decay mingled with fresh blood hit her nares, a recently slain squirrel lying next to a rotting carcass. How curious. Her heart thudded in her chest, a smile twitching at the edges of her lips.

Illusion's breath caught in her throat as she watched Styrmir work, his paw resting on the squirrel's stomach. He was… intense. His expression was a mixture of determination and unease, his eyes scrunched in concentration as he made the first incision, peeling back the pelt with practiced efficiency.

A soft smile played on Illusion's lips as she observed him. There was something almost mesmerizing about the way he moved. She liked this, liked watching him while he was unaware. She remained hidden, her presence unnoticed as she continued to watch, her mind racing with thoughts of what this ritual meant. He was alone, so it must have been a uniquely Styrmir thing to do.

As she watched him, she felt a surge of exhilaration, a promise of more to come. Whatever darkness lay within him, she wanted to explore it, to understand it, to challenge it. Her curiosity was insatiable, her resolve unshakable.

So, she stepped out into the open, with grace and a tranquil expression on her face she called out, daringly. “Have I discovered a secret of yours, Styrmir Trygg?” Her face is soft, innocent, but of course her eyes betray that as the silver pools swirl with twisted delight. She approaches, slate tail waving behind her like a banner, a giggle dripping from her maw. "What, no 'hello' for your shadow?"

"Illusion Nightwing"

he wants to say he hears her approach, that he can sense her presence long before that sickly-sweet voice rings damningly overhead. in truth, he’d been so ensconced in his task that she just about scares him out of his skin (no offence intended to the newly naked body at his feet), and it takes every inch of control not to visibly startle when the boy turns to find those quicksilver eyes glinting at him from the darkness. her. Styrmir clenches his teeth, memories of their prior meeting blazing through his mind and leaving a scorching trail in its wake. Illusion. he recalls fur-on-fur, the weight of her beneath him, the defiant lift of her chin as he’d pressed a paw to her throat - and it makes something within him flare to sudden, roaring life.

fuck. she can’t be here right now, not when he’s in the middle of such delicate work. she’s a fucking spark flickering on the edge of what is essentially his own personal pyre, and Styrmir will be damned before he lets her burn it all down. “i warned you what would happen if you showed your pretty little face to me again, girl,” he sneers, taking a menacing step forward. it has the added benefit of obscuring part of his shrine from view; the last thing Styrmir wants is that wicked gaze touching any part of it. wait, had he just called her pretty? like, out loud? fuck. “fortunately for you, i have no time for your twisted games today. run along back home while you still can.”

he hates to let her go like this, unmarred and unpunished, but he has to get her away from here. he’s not quite done, after all. there’s more steps to follow, and time is slipping through his grasp. i told you to kill her, She offers i helpfully. i warned you she’d be trouble. it’s not too late. Styrmir grits his teeth. She’s probably right, but the thought of Her having this girl for Herself…jealously is too weak a word.

"Styrmir Trygg"

Illusion's eyes glittered with a twisted delight as she watched Styrmir struggle to maintain his composure. The scent of his unease was palpable, intoxicating. Something about the added musculature he had gained had her… interested. She relished in the power she held over him, knowing she could unsettle him with mere presence. She wanted to bother him. Scourge his thoughts. Make him angry.

“Oh, Styrmir.” She purred sweetly, stepping closer with an almost feline grace. “You look positively... rattled. Scared of ruining my pretty face?” Her voice was a syrupy taunt, dripping with mockery. She could see the tension in his muscles, the way his jaw tightened as he fought to keep his emotions in check. She loved it.

She circled him slowly, each step calculated to draw out his discomfort, her body moving with a sinuous, predatory elegance. She let her tail brush lightly against his flank as she passed, a deliberate tease meant to provoke. “I seem to recall a certain promise you made.” The slate young woman continued, her tone light but her words heavy with implication. “And here I am, holding you to it.” He’d destroy her, right? Or was he actually a coward, a falsehood?

Her gaze flickered to the shrine he so desperately tried to hide from her view. Curiosity piqued, she tilted her head, a coy smile playing on her lips. How could he be a falsehood when he was committing such acts? “Interesting hobby you've got there. But I suppose even someone as... serious as you needs a distraction from time to time to keep from being a boring stick in the mud.”

She stopped in front of him, her proximity invading his space, her breath warm against his fur. Her paw reached out, almost touching the shrine, but stopping just short, fingers lingering in the air like a threat. “Do you really think I'm the type to heed warnings?” Her smile widened, eyes sparkling with mischievous glee, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. She only gave him this amount of honest expression thus far, this stranger she wanted to enrage. “Run home? How boring that would be. I think I'll stay.”

With a flick of her tail, she stepped back just enough to give him a false sense of relief. Her gaze never wavered, holding his with an unspoken challenge. “Besides, Styrmir, I do so enjoy our little encounters. Don't you?” Her voice was a whisper now, meant only for him, a tease that danced between them like a secret flame. Her eyes remained locked on his, a silent promise of more to come, her body language a tantalizing mix of defiance and allure.

"Illusion Nightwing"

she's as insufferable as ever, side-stepping his every attempt to de-escalate with that characteristic blend of mockery and audaciousness. Styrmir watches her with wary eyes and a tense stance, every muscle taut with preparation to ensnare, to physically intervene before she becomes too entangled in this to simply back away. "don't," he bites out, though the command is belied by the faint tremble in his voice. he hates it, wishes he was strong enough to take the panic flickering at his awareness and bury it deep, never to resurface. smother it beneath layers of resolve and calm control. "you don't know what you're messing with here, little shadow. or just how ugly this can get." she takes a step back, but he can't bring himself to relax, to let his guard down. not when he's experienced a mere fragment of what she's capable. who's to say what she'll do the moment his back's turned? no, he won't even give her the chance. her mention of his hobby has twisted his stomach up, and it squirms with nausea as he looks upon her, something icy and sickening. he's not...proud of it, but it's necessary work. the kind of work someone like her wouldn't understand.

Styrmir's hand shoots out and makes to grab the girl's chin, lifting her head up as he grips her face. forcing her to look into his eyes, to see the glimmer of darkness there. every word is a breathy promise. "if you insist on staying, you might just find yourself in a similar position to our friend over there." he jerks his head, indicating the bloodied body of the squirrel. "is that what you want, girl? to offer yourself up?" he tilts his head, still watching her face, waiting for the inevitable fear and revulsion. hopefully, his warning will suffice this time, and she'll go running off with her tail between her legs. no one would stick around, not after such an unhinged threat.

"Styrmir Trygg"

Illusion's eyes gleamed with an unholy light as she let out a soft, mocking laugh, completely unfazed by his threat. She enjoys that blaze in his eyes, that darkness. The plush girl’s chin is then seized, her neck craning to meet his gaze. It’s filled with something she understands. She leaned into that grip of his, her face inches from his, and whispered back, “You honestly think that scares me? You think a little blood and guts are enough to make me run?”

Her tail flicked with irritation and amusement as she pulled back slightly, just enough to break his hold, but not enough to retreat. She rather liked it instead, wanting him to lay his hands on her again. This attention that she desired, no matter the form it came in. “You're adorable when you're trying to be intimidating. But let's get one thing straight.” She stepped closer again, her breath warm against his face, eyes boring into his. And her eyes are like daggers, searching for that spark in him she craves to unleash. Relishing the struggle for dominance, the danger looming above her smaller stature. “I don't scare. Strymir. Not from the day I was born, not now, not ever. And threats like that?”She glanced at the squirrel’s body, delight flashing in her silver orbs, then back to him, a soft smirk playing on her lips. “They just make this more enjoyable.” Her promise laid bare, she peers up into his sapphire eyes, challenging him, daring him for more danger.

"Illusion Nightwing"

she doesn't balk, and for all the shock it brings, an answering hunger roars through him. Styrmir watches with greedy intent as she pulls away, feels a mixture of loss and relief as her fur slips from between his fingers. he’s overcome with the urge to push her down, sink his teeth into the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder, and taste. he imagines it’ll burn; demons can’t touch anything holy lest they melt from the inside out. and in this moment, he feels every inch a demon, mouth practically watering as cobalt eyes skim her sumptuous frame. focus, little one. “you’re twisted,” he rasps, though it feels like a particularly hideous brand of hypocrisy. “though if you knew the extent of the thing beneath my skin,” and here his lips twist in a rare facsimile of a grin, though there’s nothing warm in it, “you’d be running.” he starts to pace, sketching a very slow circle around her, gaze tracing every shape and curve. “then again, now that i know what a fucked up little creature you are, perhaps not.” there’s too much wriggling beneath his pelt, itching along his skin with maddening persistence. he doesn’t know what to do with it all, how to put one foot in front of the other like he isn’t aching to crawl out of his own flesh. he half wants to bite down on his own leg and draw blood, let it seep out of him the only way he knows how. blood. Styrmir’s head snaps to Illu, eyes narrowing. if it’s release he craves, he needn’t necessarily be the one to give it.

“how about a little wager, then, oh fearless one,” Styrmir croons, voice so soft it could almost be mistaken for affectionate. almost. “a little…skirmish. first blood wins. you win, you leave with your pretty little throat intact.” he moves to touch his lips to her ear, breath stirring the fur there. “i win…and you’re mine.”

"Styrmir Trygg"

Illusion's eyes danced with dark amusement and a hint of madness as she absorbed his words, the proposal lingering like a tempting curse. Her lips twisted into a sly, almost sinister smile, savoring the electric tension crackling between them. "Twisted, am I?" She murmured, her voice a mocking purr. "From someone harboring such monstrous desires, that's practically a compliment."

Her tail flicked with rising excitement, the subtle movement betraying the storm brewing within her. She remained still, unflinching, as he circled her like a predator sizing up its prey. His gaze traced every curve of her body, but she met it with an almost daring invitation, her posture defiant and unyielding. Her tail swished in the air, her curvaceous hips swaying in tune with her amusement. Each tilt of her head, every slight adjustment in her stance, was calculated to entice and confuse. "I'd love to peel your skin back," The slate girl purred, her tone laced with a perverse, immoral curiosity, "To see the horrors you hide underneath."

As he leaned in to whisper his challenge, her breath caught, not from fear but from the intoxicating thrill of danger. His words fanned the flames of her obsession with the heat she felt from his gaze in her core. She shifted slightly, drawing attention to the graceful lines of her neck with a crane of her skull, a subtle invitation veiled in the guise of vulnerability. "First blood…?" She echoed, her voice dripping with a twisted anticipation. "I adore the sound of that."

Her silver eyes locked onto his cobalt ones, fierce and unblinking. With a seemingly innocent brush of her paw against his, she masked the cold calculation behind her touch. "But make no mistake. I have no intention of losing. When I win, it won't just be my throat that's intact. It'll be my pride, my victory, and the delicious sight of your regret. Can you handle that, Strymir?"

Illusion leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath warm and seductive in its own right. Though she does not fully understand the consequences of it all. The soft brush of her fur against his was a deceptive caress, hiding the venom of her words. "I'll make you bleed." She whispered, her tone a dark promise. Stepping back, she poised herself with a wicked grin, eyes alight with a sinister determination. The game was on, and she would savor every moment of the twisted dance to come. “I’ll make you kneel.” She wanted him to keep his eyes on her, to keep that same hate and frustrated gleam in his storm eyes.


"Illusion Nightwing"

her every word serves only to incense him further, stoking the raging fire crackling in his underbelly until he can barely think past thar searing heat. her arrogance, the complete and unyielding confidence of her victory, it’s an impertinence he can’t ignore. why, she’s practically begging to be put in her place, and who is he to deny her? “such ghastly promises,” he sneers, gripping the earth beneath his claws. “let’s see if you can truly fulfil them.”

something electric seems to crackle overhead, the hairs along his spine rising in answer. for a moment, he’s struck with the fanatic notion that he could do it: strike her down with nary a thought, flatten her with less than a look. as Styrmir readies himself, he cuts a glance to the soft skin of her throat, the enticing curve of her flank, the glint of a silver eye. he’s wanted this since they’d first met, even if he hadn’t quite known it at the time. and now, finally, that desire is released.

releasing his grip on the earth, Styrmir snaps forward like an arrow released from its bow, unfurling every powerful limb as he reaches for her. the voice is blessedly quiet, though he can sense Her excitement like a tangible jolt, humming away at the back of his head. the world narrows, shrinks, falls away until all he can see is her, her, her. teeth bared, Styrmir makes a grab for Illu’s shoulders, aiming to sling both paws around her neck and pull her bodily to the ground. he needs to feel her writhe beneath him, needs to hear her really scream.

he won’t accept anything less.

"Styrmir Trygg"

Illusion's laughter spilled forth, dark and lilting, mocking the very earth beneath them. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation as she watched the rage twist his features into something feral, something barely controlled. Shame. “Did you know,” She purred, the sinister curl of her lips deepening as she let him savor the fantasy of her downfall with the sway of her hips. “Desire something too much and it will make a fool of you.” But she hardly had much experience with that fact.

Her senses sharpened, drinking in the sight of him—every coiled muscle, every flicker of madness in his eyes. He was a force of nature, one she was more than willing to dance with. Let him come; let him think he’s in control. She was enthralled by that notion. She wanted to continue pushing him, see how far he would, could go.

As Styrmir lunged, she let him taste the… illusion of victory, feigning a slight stumble to bait him further. But at the last second, she twisted with a dancer’s grace, slipping just out of his reach. His claws grazed her fur, and she relished the electric charge that crackled through the air as their bodies nearly collided. Gods. Her taunting laugh echoed around them, a sound dripping with venomous mirth. “So eager to make me admit defeat, yet so clumsy~” She sneered, her voice like poisoned, too-sweet honey.

She pivoted on swift paws, every movement designed to tease and provoke, her tail lashing with wicked glee behind her. “You’ll have to do better than that, brute.” Her voice dipped low, sultry and dripping with false surrender. The words spilt out from her inky lips without a care, all she wanted was to force him to the edge of himself. The challenge in her gaze was sharp enough to cut, daring him to prove her wrong. She could feel the pressure mounting in him, that need to dominate, to claim victory. Good. She wanted him reckless, wild, desperate enough to expose every weakness of himself. Then she lunged, jaws snapping for his throat.

Her heart hammered with exhilaration, not fear, as she prepared to meet him head-on. Let him try. The game was far from over, and if he thought he’d be the one to revel in triumph, he was in for a rude awakening.


"Illusion Nightwing"

for one, perfect moment, victory seems within his grasp. she’s right there for the taking, and he allows himself the notion that the stars have aligned for this, plants have shifted and changed course to bring such an event into being, entire universes have splintered apart and come back together to bring them both to this very point. mine. the shape of the word is poised on his tongue, silently mouthed as her fur brushes against a claw tip.

and then, impossibly, she moves.

Styrmir makes a furious sound, a howl of rage, but it’s drowned out by the sudden clap of thunder overhead. lightning follows quickly afterward, splintering across the sky and throwing his silhouette into sharp relief. Thor himself is angered by this denial, this loss of what Styrmir knows to be a divine right. “you’ve not yet seen even an eighth of what i’m capable,” he spits, the fur bristling along his spine in taut spikes. here they are, engaged in a tremulous dance, and still she mocks him. “and when you’re squirming beneath me, begging for mercy…” his eyes meet hers in silent challenge, savouring the vicious glint cutting through that quicksilver stare, “i will deny you.”

she lunges for him, then, and her teeth find his throat and gain purchase. pain shoots through him like a whip crack, and he shudders; every point of her teeth feels like a point of lightning, electrifying him on the spot. the momentum of her attack sends him stumbling backward, and he trips. instinctively, he brings his forepaws up and once again attempts to sling them around her shoulders, to bring her down with him - and as his back hits the earth, he twists and aims to flip them over, to pull her beneath him even as she grips his throat.

"Styrmir Trygg"