She had once more left the Hollows behind to take to roaming the dusken hour, heading towards her usual haunt upon the shores of Stygian. There was the need to be near the sea, to have the salty air in her lungs, and the roar of the waves in her ears. Languid was the way her entirety moved along the shallow pools etched in cold stone, a patient saunter, an empress walking down her hallway of broken mirrors. She supposed it was better than dwelling within the shadows of the Hollows, the yawning caverns of its twisting catacombs. Most of the Sigrun had taken to living within the caves with ease, but she yearned far too much to be beside the ocean to linger within the warmth of her den consistently; a desire so strong it could not be controlled. It was a strange concept to want something, but also fear it in the same regard as she held a wary regard of the water, but she supposed all passions possessed such mania.

And there indeed, burned a fire within the young Sigrun this evening.

For as she bore love of the sea and Vellen despite it all, she also greatly cared for her family, and it was this purpose that brought her here, no matter how mad it seemed. She had come here for a reason beneath it all, to find him, the golden warrior with the devilish blue eyes, and she would not be sated until she did. Come forth, wolf, for I am just as hungry as I know you to be.

@Hákon

table by sylph | stock 2

she comes looking for him, and so she finds him.

he, too, is drawn to this area — a moth to the flame, forever craving the comforting taste of salt in the air. even now, long after the sun has set, the ocean is alive and illuminated. it moves on its own, a great writhing beast to respect and give awe in equal measure. an ear flicks in its direction, all but ignoring the way the moonlight reflects off the crashing waves, the way the seafoam seems to glow in the low light. it is a sight he has seen many times before, and he's always been a bad skagos. instead he prowls along the smaller pools, each step heavy as toes press into the wetted sand. this place, too, is familiar — as is the splashing of small marine life. crabs and starfish and other scuttling things come to life, coaxed out by the quiet night. he only pauses when it's clear there's another creature, one far larger than anything else.

seafoam eyes raise and sweep across the horizon, and @Svana's familiar frame is easily spotted. she, too, seems to glow in the lowlight, her striking markings only amplified by the night. sigrun, he calls, husky voice a little hoarse after hours of misuse. the sound is especially low in the night with little else to drown it out. he sounds like a man who is tired of running into his almost-family, and he is. but she, at least, is known; they'd fought once before, and that means something to the cranky skagos. svana, he says after a moment, correcting himself without being asked or told. with a lazy swagger he pushes into motion again, heavy strides bringing him in her direction.

CODE BY LARS

As all the nights before, she was restless, a feeling that had not been sated no matter her efforts to curb what could be causing it. There was far too much that kept her lying awake in her den, had her mind in tatters and her eyes cast wide upon the ceiling littered in an array of shining, brightened stones. What had happened that day, the homeland, Eir, her family here….all of it was draining the life right out of her; all because of her own worries and lack of confidence in herself. They had broken it the moment she discovered she hadn’t been quick enough to save those Sigrun, and now she was wrought with the agony of their loss and the disappointment of Vellen.

She knew he was angry, knew he had to be appeased, and only with the blood of those who opposed him and Sigrun could favor be regained. Yet, she had not wanted to betray it to her family, to let them see the shame she was in Vellen’s eyes, and even despite Magnus bestowing her this new rank of his Gentry in spite of her failure, she still did not feel she had proved herself to him as worthy enough. She lacked the strength she desired, and it was only going to improve if she had direction. It was why she was out here now, why she had stolen from her den with purpose after another sleepless night with the intention of finding the lone skagos. Whether or not he chose to aid her, it would be a different war entirely.

It did not take long for him to appear, sauntering down the beach in the lazy sway of motion of a man unhurried, a walk that could even stir Vellen’s patience to crack. Fortunate, she supposed, that she was made of stronger tolerance than that of a temper. It would probably be the only saving grace she had this night. After all, like a devil in the pale moonlight, to dance with him was like a sacrifice in the making; was she willing to pay that price? ” Hákon.” She responds coolly to his greeting, her head tilting forward in a nod of acknowledgement, yet her eyes never move from his as they drew closer to one another. "I have something I need to ask of you." The selkie was blunt in her askance, slender legs drawing to a halt when she was near enough to him that they could speak easily without having to raise voice. It was far more than just need, but she would never be a beggar, not for anything. He would either decide to help her, or he wouldn’t, and that would be that.

@Hákon

table by sylph | stock 2

he moves in her direction and she in his; that, in itself, is enough to give him pause. almost. he isn't used to others being excited ( or even vaguely pleased ) to see him, so to have her hurry towards him... anyone else might be touched, or honored, or something equally soft as that. but hakon merely bunches his shoulders forward, instantly tense. what was going on? seafoam eyes slide away from her approaching form, sweeping across the tidepools — only to find them still and empty tonight. they were alone, it seemed, yet the tension does not leave his frame.

she says his name and finally he stops, figuring this was close enough. bobbed tail twitches at his haunches, unsure and uneasy in equal measure. there's still something off — or, more likely, he is a paranoid bastard. it's only when she speaks again does it click. ah. furrowed brows loosen as the corner of his mouth lifts, an off-kilter simper forming. loose and opaque, blackened lips hinting at the fangs beneath.

she wanted something — no, she needed something.

well, maybe he could help with that. he might be a cranky bastard, but he wasn't a terrible man, though he had no idea what she might ask of him. what is it? he asks, head tilting slightly. some of the tension bleeds from his frame as he waits, considering. there were few sigruns he liked but @Svana was probably one of them — and that had to mean something.

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Perhaps it was the moonlight playing tricks with her ghastly shadows, but for one odd moment, Svana thought she saw what appeared to be tension furrowing the darkened brow of @Hákon being nearer than she had been. From the various times she had seen him, never had she beheld him to be on an edge before, especially not in the presence of the Sigrún. Curious. Did he think her to have assassins ready to come out of the rocks for him? Or that Magnus was off lurking somewhere in the dark, waiting for his moment to ambush him? It was quite an amusing thought, the edge of her lips quivering lightly with the urge to smirk though they remained unmoving as ice. No, she would dismiss it as if she had seen nothing at all, if she even had, letting her gaze flick out towards the idle tide rushing towards the shore. Besides, if she didn’t know any better, it was probably just another means of being surly and it was just as well that she had not come to tease him. Though, it was quite a tempting endeavor, but in the end, not part of her plan.

What is it? The silence broke between them as his words cut through it, inquisitive, and that was what she had been hoping for. ”We have fought before…” She approached lightly the subject of intent, allowing him a moment to see the direction she was heading in before she went on. ”You know what I need to work on, and I would like to ask for your guidance, a mentorship if you will.” It was a hard admittance, but one she was willing to sacrifice her pride for if it would make her stronger. The Rike had returned, and she needed to be far more adept at fighting than this, given her smaller stature and knack towards politics rather than the physical side of things. For what was coming, there would be no place for diplomacy and her family would need brawn instead. They would need her with violence burning in her heart, and she refused to lose anymore Sigrún to those bastarðar . ”Can you teach me to be a better warrior, Hákon?” Her eyes were on his own as her mind drifted in and out of wondering whether or not he would accept, if she had been respectful enough in her askance. She liked him quite well and did not want to upset him by being flippant or lacking proper manners when addressing a friend. Most thought him difficult, and while that were true that he could be so, certainly there was a part of the cantankerous Skagos that wasn’t, well, too cross.

table by sylph | stock 2

the whole thing seems strange — but then again, hákon is not used to being asked for things. that might explain his surliness now, if he’d ever admit to it. as it is, he waits with what little patience he can muster until @Svana finally explains what’s brought her out here. and — oh. he snorts with laughter, a humorless lick as she falls quiet. not at her ( though that’s surely how it will come across ), but at the situation. he’d been worried, when all she wanted was pointers on fighting. well, that was something they could certainly manage. yeah, we can do that. he didn’t mind scrapping for fun — or for practice, either, if that’s what she needed — and it never hurt to keep sharp. surely there was a healer in that pride of hers in case they went too overboard, and it’d be more fun than letting fights find him.

with that seemingly settled, he barrels on. rolling his shoulders forward hákon gives a curt nod, though there’s an edge of hesitance in his face — one that bleeds through to this voice as he asks: is there a reason you’re asking me? he knew magnus had fighting prowess, and so did the giant, white sigrun who was more bear than man. there were plenty of others in her family she could call on if she wanted to… but instead, she was out here with him. the skagos punk wasn’t going to say he was touched or humbled or anything of the sort, but maybe he was. maybe it made his little grinch heart go pitter-patter, even as he knew he'd never voice any of this. certainly there was a better reason ( beyond some sense of misguided affection ) that made her want him and his expertise, instead of any of her clan.

CODE BY LARS

There was much she desired within this life, much of which could not be done without broadening her horizons and undertaking things she wouldn’t normally find much interest in. Yet, so much had changed since coming here from the homeland, and it required the same of her. She could not remain stagnant, and to do so would be inviting her own demise. As she had learned to the cunning exchange of words, so must she learn how to handle her own if it came down to it. At his blatant snort, a brow would raise faintly before her features became impassable again. Was @Hákon laughing at her for this declaration? Perhaps, it certainly wasn’t something that the Sigrún would seem to be capable of, asking for help. Either way, it was done and they were here now; past the point of no return. “Well, not only are you an experienced warrior, but your fighting style is also different from what I am used to going up against.” She offered in explanation that she hoped was satisfactory enough of an answer. It was true, he had caught her off guard many times and had always twisted something into his advantage, and that is what made her realize how dull her own skills had gotten.

Since their fight, she had not involved herself in another one, even though there were tense moments in between that did ultimately lead to nothing. She was more adept at handling social situations and figuring them out compared to being physically brawling, but that would certainly not do when going up against the likes of the Rikes. There would be no negotiations, no offering of words or bartering for the most likeable deal; only blood and death would suffice. ”What I am expecting to come is the unexpected, and if I am to fight it, then I need to learn how.” She murmured softly, fixing him with candid eyes as she rolled her shoulders forward, loosening the tension in her frame and preparing for what might come next as her words rose once more in quiet askance, taking on the roughness of their mother tongue. ”If you are satisfied, shall we begin, vinur minn?”

table by sylph | stock 2

ears pitch forward, a look of feral curiosity shifting his features away from its usual grizzled expression. she sounds as though she expects to go to war any second, and maybe that's not too far off base. he'd heard the call for a raid in the greener portion of the island; perhaps these southerns weren't nearly as wet behind the ears as he'd originally thought. he thinks to ask her this but then his eyes trail her, sharp and keen, as she loosens herself, readying herself for battle — a clear sign as anything. but it's her words that catch him off-guard, throwing him a little off-kilter, as he blinks.

vinur minn.

huh. imagine that.

she's ready for him, and for this, and so he does not plan on making her wait much longer. his approach is simple, straightforward — he leaps into action, barrelling towards her in the meager space between them. as he goes he lowers his skull until his chin touches his chest, aligning it between his shoulders and spine, as he attempts to headbutt her. he aims for the square of her chest as he goes, hoping to knock her off balance. there is force behind it, but not a terrible amount; there is only entertainment in his chest today, not anger. his ears pin to his skull, keeping them flat and out of the way, as claws unsheathe and grapple the sand below.

he might not be a good teacher but any practice was good practice.

hákon vs. @Svana
for dominance & omg u called me friend :pleading_face:
Round 1 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 10 + 9 + 1 + 2 + 11 + 12 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 2 + 15 + 13 + 14

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 9 + 15 + 1 + 11 + 18

CODE BY LARS

Without warning, he charged her and before she had time to set the defense properly, he hit her quick like a striking serpent. It was more like a heavy shove causing her to sidestep off to the left side of his body in trying to right her balance, a sharp hiss of air being sucked into her lungs with the impact of his skull against her chest and escaping her in a roughened gasp of breath. Though, she could tell it was not as rough as he could be, the absence noticeable from the way she had remembered their first battle. That had been savage, bloodlusty, and where as this was something far more muted and would give her a slight bruising. Perhaps he desired something more of a lighter pace considering how many wounds he carried around of late, and she wasn’t interested in hurting him. There was only a mind for lesson and what all he could teach he, for she had so much she wanted to protect.

Ears pinned themselves down flat against her head as the selkie caught her second wind, legs attempting to steel themselves out in a bracing position to make certain she was well and firm on her feet. Her left front paw would attempt to raise itself from the ground then, attempting to strike out at his own left front leg and attempting to use the momentum to knock it out from beneath him, attempting to use the loose grains of sand underfoot as an advantage. Not fully, but enough of an attempt to try and make him stumble, even if it was slight. It was then her head would attempt to shove forward, chin attempting to tuck down close to protect her throat as she sought to attempt to headbutt him head on with the distraction of her first attempted move; a signature move of his that she found quite handy indeed. Even so, it was an attempt that would lack the ferocity to harshly injure as that is not something that friends do after all.

Svana vs @Hákon
for dominance and pls be my friend hak :(
Round 1/3
Hits:

Rolling 4d20: 20 + 9 + 15 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 16 + 6 + 20 + 4

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 18 + 12 + 15 + 3

table by sylph | stock 2

the impact, too, leaves him reeling — it's nearly impossible to headbutt someone without hurting yourself in the process. it's fine, though, and it puts them on a more even playing field. not that her oppotents in the future will be so forgiving, but at least she knwos how to right herself. and right herself she does — there's one, single moment between them where they both shake off the dizzying feeling before she's throwing herself forward again. good, he wants to croon, but doesn't — instead, focusing on the moments as they come. second by second. her front paw snakes out, punching at his left front leg. her paw catches him on the forelimb, halfway between his "knee" and ankle, and though his weight buckles he does not stumble. he is used to he sands ( and so is she, probably ), but he is so focused on this attack he does not see the next one coming. he ish halfway through lowering his muzzle — intent on trying to snag her paw between his jaws. but hakon does not get that far; he does not expect her own head to come crashing forward — and as such, he is blind to it, unable to stop it from happening. their foreheads connect just as she'd intended and his jaws click shut, teeth landing firmly on his tongue with the effort.

a snarl rises hot in his throat as blood fills his mouth, his own, and now his muzzle truly lashes forward. he attempts to grab hold of her left ear with his muzzle, intent on catching the delicate cartilage and keeping hold of it.

hákon vs. @Svana
for dominance & omg u called me friend :pleading_face:Round 2 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 10 + 2 + 8 + 15 + 9 + 3 + 5

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 6 + 19 + 2 + 18

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 1 + 5 + 6 + 15 + 9

CODE BY LARS