@Khadija's persistence was enough for Avreya to finally relent, deciding that there was no convincing this mourning lioness to leave the body. It helped that others stepped in to properly claim it, as this seemed to alleviate some of the possessiveness and tension that was driving those that had gathered to hostility. This was ultimately enough for the mauve woman, who fell back as these lions closed in--and in line with the pale man, whose attention had sought hers.

Reeling herself in with a huff, Avreya observed the rest of the procession as she addressed @Asphodel. "I desire to know what you intended to do with a stranger's entrails." There was a touch of both humor and scolding to her words. Would he have made such a bold move if she had not been nearby to jump in? She thought not, and she was not so sure what to think about his ability to predict her willingness to intervene.

art by moogle

code (c) daanyen

Her sight is blocked from the grisly dismembering and she silently thanks her mate for it, she feels nauseous but is trying so hard to pretend she is fine, her eyes seek his, holding onto his gaze for a moment as she leans into his touch. He is always able to ground her, but in this moment, it's barely helping, she can still picture it all, hear it all.

He mentions getting back home and she nods, she swallowed the lump in her throat and bowed her head, moving past him, keeping her eyes down, not looking at the body and what was missing or left of it.

Once home, she would probably try her best not to dissociate in their den, or fight to keep herself from freaking out and losing her lunch, her internal battle was waging against more than just nausea though.

(Exits)

TRIGGER WARNING!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of death, corpse mutilation

More than once, Thella had to cast her eyes away from the bloody clash; it was a brutal affair and each blow to the male only made to remind her that it could have been Karsa had the stranger not taken his place. She didn't want to think about it. Couldn't think about it. The price of war had yet to truly rear its ugly head. Was this just the beginning? A marker of what was to come should she come out victorious?

She gasped softly at her next glance back, not realizing she'd been holding her breath until the woman fell to the ground in a heap at the paws of her opponent; a gasp of relief. She knew the woman was more than capable, having bested Reti, so to see her life come to an end here and now was no small shock. But it was a quick end.

And then...

Her stomach heaved as she realized what the man was doing, as she realized what he carried between his teeth to lay at her king's feet. Unable to hold them back, tears began to quickly sting her eyes and she wiped them away fervently. The woman was dead—wasn't that enough?

She didn't wish to wait around for his response and, instead, rose to leave without another look at any of those she passed.

-exit-

art by drifter | code by me

[OOC: Double EXP boost is active for Darhke and anyone else in his threads]

Darhke shifted as it seemed the lions gathering would clear out, and moved to make his departure. He had learned plenty - listening in on the discussions surrounding the challenge.. the death. He'd learned that this female that had died held no small amount of enemies - but... perhaps there would be more to come.. Depending.

The wheaten male slipped out of the pit, making his way back towards the Cove where he would mull over the things that he had learned - the most interesting of which the Vermedan transfer of prisoners to Lorien. Maybe he would find the Caladan leaders and have a discussion with them about the two prides - see where the Cove stood...

---

+10(20) Learn something about pride/group/family relations
+10 (20) Remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters)
+10(20) Successfully stay hidden for the duration of a thread

//Exit//

code by corvus

Rose didn’t move from where she was frozen with a mixture of panic, fear, and utter shock as she watched the man she recognized as the cove’s king and queen’s father battling viciously with none other than its former ruler. There were murmurs going on around here but she paid them not mind as her eyes refused to leave the fight.

Until suddenly she couldn’t rip them away fast enough. She hardly realizes that Kvare had won - let alone the desecration he was performing until it was too late. Miaran had been terrifying but there was nothing she could have done in the bards mind that justified the victors behavior as parts of her began flying around, he was pretty sure a cub had ran down to crawl into her, and why were her body, heart, and head in different places?

Oh gods she was going to be sick.

Without a word to anyone around her she turned and ran. She needed to get him. She needed to get someone there was more air. Somewhere she could hurl out the last three meals she’d eaten in peace. This was too much.

-exit Rose-

code x art

Father wins, and dismembers the loser with such intensity that it is enough to churn even her stomach. Her nose crinkles, but she does not avert her eyes away from the chaos below, fearful that even looking away for a moment might cause her to miss something. Instead, she acutely follows the pandemonium in the belly of the caldera, watching as her family's allies cheer his victory and others with weaker stomachs turn away or make sick right on the battlefield. The one thing that stands out, tangible and resolute, is the shift in the air to overwhelming relief. A weight lifted, a held breath finally expelled.

Yet another one of their enemies fall.

She lingers only long enough to watch Drauhir and Pyrrha lift Kvare's unconscious body away from the battlefield. As she turns to leap from her perch in the trees, she brushes herself along its leaves and branches to temporarily disguise her scent, eager to make a hasty exit from the Pit lest she be forced to make conversation. There is too much on her mind to let herself be stopped now.

---

Exit Thaïs.
+20 (x2) Learn something about pride/group/family relations (2/2)
+20 (x2) Remain undetected in a large thread (5+ characters) (2/2)
+10 (x2) Practice hiding your scent (2/2)

code by cala, art by rabbit

He had been stunned into silence, so focused on what was going on and what might happen to his son. Karsa still hadn't arrived, his gut twisted with worry. @Louve ♔ was by him shortly and he couldn't bring himself to look at her - still glued to the fight. Kvare had to win...otherwise she would continue to come after his family.

Not him.
His family.

It made his blood boil and Alexander's heart thudded so hard in his chest it bordered on painful. Coward. Miaran was a coward and deserved nothing. Vaguely he recalls Louve speaking to him, and all he can mutter is, "No." Alexander had been asked to help Milano remove his children and wife from a dangerous situation, and so he had. Khadija was surely not Miaran's sister.

So many others arrived, his family. @Angelo - he tried to take comfort, but Karsa was still not here. Where was he? The world around him ceased to exist, the fight was all that mattered in these slow motion moments. All he could hear was a steady ringing in his ears, and then finally - she fell. Miaran crashed to the ground and Kvare didn't waste any time.

He ripped her apart.

And Mother help him, Alexander enjoyed it. He reveled in the woman's demise, praised the fact that Kvare had quite literally ripped her apart. She wasn't a woman that deserved respect, not after all she'd done. Not after threatening his son. As Kvare approached and dropped the head at his feet, a sneer etches itself across his features.

As everything started to calm down, the King finally turns to look to Louve, his voice a rasp of sound, "Take the head, place it somewhere the vultures can pick at it." He would take it, but those within the Hollow would not appreciate it. He couldn't make Louve do this, but he wanted Miaran to suffer. Even in death. He would stand then, moving to offer Louve a small smile, and would wait for her answer before departing. If any others were speaking to him, his roleplayer apologizes cause she lost track of everything real fast.

table by aurora / art

She didn’t hear the lioness approach her over the din surrounding them from the pit. Her attention lay solely focused on the fight, watching each snarling bite, wincing at each blood-streaked swipe of claws. They were vicious, dangerous, so much more violent than the previous fight she’d been witness to. But, of course, that was to be expected, wasn’t it? This was “for the death,” after all.

A soft noise, carried upon a voice that was familiar, brought Carmine’s head snapping around to look at first in surprise and then in relief at @Brighid ♔ as her friend joined her there upon the upper edge of the pit. She wanted to smile at the woman, to offer a friendly wag of her tail in greeting, in invitation, but they were hard to muster. She barely managed to lift the edges of her muzzle in some blank imitation of a smile, one that didn’t touch her eyes and that fell away too quickly. Her tail stayed still, limp, as somber and sullen as the rest of her appeared to be. It wasn’t a joyous occasion.

Though…maybe she was one of the few who carried that mentality. The Winter Queen spoke knowledgeably of the lioness that fought in the pit—the one who had called for death in the first place—and how her choices had brought her to this pivotal moment. She didn’t speak of her odds favorably, which indicated to the little wolf that her death was the more likely option. The favorable one. She turned her head and regarded the crowd for the first time, scanning among the faces present, and realized the lioness was right. Indifference, curiosity, disdain: every positive emotion directed the lion while the negative were flung at her.

“What did she do?” She couldn’t help asking. It seemed strange to her that a queen, someone who had others to look out for under her protection, would spoil her reign so profoundly that not even those who had resided in her care would cheer for her victory. It was also much easier to speculate, to drift off into conversations of the past when the present was so bloody and murderous. Staying there, however, became exceedingly more difficult when the fight reached its inevitable conclusion in a short amount of time—delivering the lioness to a fate so many deemed appropriate for her.

Had things ended there, Carmine might have been alright, all things considered. But when the lion who had felled the wicked woman didn’t stop at death alone, didn’t stop as he tore into what was left of her as if seeking trophies, she felt her stomach roil dangerously. “I can’t–” She couldn’t finish the words, fighting to maintain some bit of dignity in front of so many witnesses, and turned helplessly away from the pit, from the mutilated corpse that was being divided up among those most offended by its living presence. Carmine shook her head, ears pinning as if trying to block out what she’d been unfortunate enough to see, and tried to send an apologetic look to the lioness behind her as she stopped well out of sight of what was happening down below. “I’m sorry,” she called back, standing gingerly as she willed her unsettled insides to calm.

Maybe coming here was a bad idea after all.

+5 10 Learn something interesting about a pride or family (1 of 2)
+5 10 Scout a neutral territory (Outlaw) (2 of 2)
+5 10 Scout a neutral territory (Pathfinder) (2 of 2)

Isildur is born and bred a Savante. He wears his heart on his sleeve, processes his emotions with a deeper understanding than others. It feels like nothing to sweep some pretty passerby into the turbulence of his nervousness, clinging onto the closest vessel for his distraughtness, even if it may toe the line between flattering and creepy. If it were anyone but Karsa, Isildur may have shown some sense of decorum—but if even thoughtful and kind Karsa can be called upon by Death, then what would that mean for Sorin? Lullia?

He cannot bear to think about it.

He tries to convince his fear to become anger.

No, Isildur replies, his mouth drawn in a thin, straight line. He's done nothing. Her quarrel is with my father.

More guttural, awful sounds begin to fill the harrowing silence. Rip, wrench, tear.

Don't forget to blink, Isildur Savante.

He blinks. Once, twice.

When he's focusing on her, he can drown the sounds out with his thoughts.

Sorry, Helena, I— He swallows. Thank you.

Eventually, the noises stop, though he does not know when. Instead, he is entirely too focused on the way she's fighting the urge to laugh, her crimson gaze thumbing through his tells in a manner similar to Manon.

I'm from the Hollow. My father is the king. It feels strangely important to say it, as if emphasizing the gravity of the challenger's transgressions. Not just against an individual or a family, but the pride as a whole. Are you a rogue? I don't smell a pride on you.

If there is, it must be faint.

I don't know who that man is, he eventually admit, frowning. I would assume an ally of my pride or my father. But I assure you, I can't think of anything Karsa has done to deserve this.

Mother knows he's not been around enough to even truly know. It is yet another reminder of his own shortcomings, with his pride as much as his family.

Then, he sees Genesis collapse on the other side of the battlefield, the one moment he finally finds the courage to pull his eyes away from Helena.

He blanches.

I'm sorry—I—I have to go, he practically trips over himself, Thank you, again.

Perhaps they could meet in a far quieter, kinder place.

---

Exit Isildur
@Helena
+20 (x2) Discuss pride, group, or family relations with another character (2/2)
+10 (x2) Learn a character’s full name and rank (2/2)
+10 (x2) Have a conversation about politics (2/2)

Table by cala & art by blumalou

It was impossible to argue with the little healer. She made an excellent point about the violence inherently found within this island’s inhabitants, how everything that revolved around their lives came back to the basic principle of kill or be killed. Jet’s somber expression fell sadly as he watched her inch back, indicating a desire to leave—not just the pit and fight but the island as a whole. He sighed below his breath, recognizing then that his attempts to coax her into a pride, into his pride specifically, were going nowhere.

She needed to go.

“As much as I don’t want to admit it,” he stated, offering a brief, saddened smile, “I do think you’re right.” An ear twitched as the fight progressed within the pit, and he turned his head in time to watch the gray lioness, at last, fall. He thought it was over then, until the victor approached the body and began dissecting, no doubt preparing to claim pieces as hard-won spoils. He took it as a cue to leave.

He rose swiftly to his paws and turned to Cosette, guiding her incredibly smaller form away. She didn’t need to see the aftermath. He didn’t need to see the aftermath. He’d seen everything he wanted to already.

+5 10 Observe a challenge and learn the results (2 of 2)
+5 10 Observe a fight (2 of 2)

-Exit Jet-

IMG - CODE