More than anything, she needed to see her wounds taken care of. Later she could deal with the crippling realization of what she'd gotten herself into, but for now? Now she was just going to try and gingerly handle her own problems without alerting anyone. Nephthys doubted she would ever see the man again and despite her best interest, she couldn't decide if that was good or not. Probably. If the bleeding was any indication of what was to come, Nephthys was not eager to see him again.

Or maybe she was, because being treated like garbage was what she deserved. Maybe it was what she needed, to be put in her place time and time again. Reminded that she was not special or loved or anything of the sort, only a warm body and a means to an end.

How did one clean the wounds on her own neck? Nephthys didn't have anyone to ask. The scarlet lioness looked herself over, noting the different gashes and lacerations that littered her body. Dried blood clung to her fur and every movement was a new flash of pain. Lovely. She didn't know where to begin, so she just.. didn't. Nephthys dropped onto her stomach, flexing her toes against the grass with a sigh.

image by moogle/code by saph

speech

Blood. Nephthys. Nostrils would flare, brow furrowed as he followed the tracks and blood trail along the ground. Lips would curl as anger bubbled up within him, he had better be wrong. Of course, he was not. Ahead of him he could see the red form of his…well… he wasn’t sure what she was, a friend- for sure, but was she more than that? He did not understand where he stood with her. Ronin would move quicker, eating the distance between them until he came close enough to speak to her, only then would he slow and walk more carefully towards her. “Who?” He would rumble, his tone angry, murderous even as his mismatch gaze burned over her frame.

Wounds lay at the back of her neck, but that was not all. Gashes and lacerations riddled her body, dried blood clung to her fur. Ronin would growl, moving closer with delicate motions- signaling his anger was not directed at her. The warmonger would attempt to rasp his tongue over the wounds on her neck, gently and carefully- trying not to cause her any more pain than what was necessary. He did not trust himself to speak, nor did he trust himself to ask any more questions yet. If she did not want him to help, she would have to lash out or verbally say so. She had cleaned his wounds, it was time for him to return the favor- no?


@Nephthys

As time went on and the adrenaline began to ebb from her bloodstream, Nephthys felt the weight of guilt coupled with absolute exhaustion gradually replacing euphoria. The high she had found in coming so close to death and living to tell the tale, the momentary flash of lust for the man that had broken her skin – all of it left her crumpled in its wake. The aftermath found her as nothing more than the pathetic woman she had been before it all, and now she knew that the sins she had just committed were not to be repeated. Even Nephthys felt she deserved something more than whatever the fuck she had just experienced, though that thought quickly dissolved when she heard his voice.

Ronin's arrival couldn't have come at a worse time. Nephthys didn't want him to see her as beaten up as she was, but more than that, she didn't want him to know what she had done with the man. Why, exactly, did she think he would care? She didn't know. She only knew that she felt shame and she felt remorse and she felt so unworthy of his touch as he came near, gently cleaning the wounds she hadn't been able to reach. Her ears fell against the crown of her head as she looked up at him before she quickly dropped her chin to hide the gashes at her throat. Acheron could have easily squeezed the life from her then and there, but he hadn't. Nephthys almost wished he had specifically to save her from the embarrassment that flushed her cheeks.

"I don't know." Because it was the truth. "He followed me into the water.. and then he held me under. It's a blur after that, but I know I broke his paw." Looking back, she wondered how he hadn't reacted to that as much. The beast was clearly a bit disturbed. "I'm okay, lov-" she caught herself, "I just.. need to get better at fighting," she lamented, lowering her head to come rest gently between her paws.

image by moogle/code by saph

speech



Anger burned in his veins, a fire that contended with that of his anger towards his ex wife, if not it burned hotter. It was not lost on the warmonger that he had no right to be so protective of the Mire woman, she belonged to the Mire King, it was he that should be here, licking her wounds and demanding information from her. Not Ronin. Yet, he could not keep himself uninvolved…unattached. She would peer up at him, if only for a moment but he did not understand the look in her eye, before she was ducking her head. His brows furrowed, confused. He would busy himself, cleaning her wounds gently as his anger slowly built, boiling beneath the surface threatening to spew over.

She would speak and he would listen. Lips pulling back in a silent snarl as she explained what had happened. At the mention of breaking his paw, his lips would fall, pulling into a smirk. Of course she had. Ronin would dismiss the heavy scent of the male on her as part of their combat, not thinking that she had been intimate with someone that had attacked her. Want me to break more of him? He asked, knowing if he ever found the male again, he would regardless- as long as Nephthys wasn’t around to try to stop him. If she showed up after the fight begun…so be it.

She would say she was okay, catching herself on the word of endearment that meant so much to him, it bothered him, but only because he knew he had feelings for the woman that she did not seem to share. When she mentioned she needed to get better at fighting he nodded slightly, not wanting to wound her pride further- he knew all too well how fragile it was. Does the Mire not train anymore?He asked, head tilting to the side curiously. He partially knew the answer- if only because he had fought a good number of Mire lions and beaten them, but he could be wrong, maybe the lead fighter just…sucked. He would sigh as her head lowered between her paws. I can teach you… if you want? He offered, reluctantly. He knew how he was, even during spars and he didn’t want to hurt her.

@Nephthys

As much as she wanted to pull away and keep her distance from him (emotionally and physically), there was something comforting about his presence. There always was. Nephthys felt relaxed in his company in a way she never did with Alaric, but maybe that wasn't a good thing. With Alaric, she was determined to always show her best side; the fear being that he would lose interest and cast her aside one day. She had no reason to think he would ever do such a thing, she just.. was afraid it would happen regardless. Ronin, on the other hand, saw all sides of her. The ugly, much to her dismay, and everything in between. The only thing he hadn't seen so far was her jealousy, but for the moment it was quieted. For the moment, she was the one winning. She was feeling his tongue rasp against him, feeling the waves of protectiveness roll off him. Maybe she should just enjoy it while it lasted or.. shit, she didn't know.

He wanted to hurt Acheron. Nephthys wouldn't stop him, but she wasn't going to give him any details on what the man looked like. If Ronin wanted revenge, he would need to go around and sniff every man for a whiff of Tollaire. Good luck, pal.

"This has nothing to do with Ecrosia or its training or anything in between," she replied with a huff, tucking her head closer to her chest as she scowled. "There's not many lions I trust to teach me. I trust you, for example." And then he offered to train her instead, but there was hesitance in his voice that made her pause. "Not if it's such an inconvenience. You don't have to do any of this," she grumbled, pulling away from his tongue. "I don't need your pity. I'll be fine." Nephthys turned her head away from him, unwilling to meet his eyes.

image by moogle/code by saph

speech


Ronin was completely capable of being that grounding factor, that calm in the storm, a shield to the chaos that surrounded Nephthys. He didn’t mind being that for her, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want more. It was an entirely different sort of ache in his gut and chest when they were near each other, painful yet wanting. Much like the woman he pressed against, he was able to drop his guard with her, to be more of himself and he enjoyed that. Having a sham on his face all the time was exhausting.

He also could not deny how protective he felt over the woman, how he wanted to hunt down the man whose scent was quite literally all over her and rip him to shreds. He refrained, letting that burning rage simmer and stew as he tended her wounds as carefully as he could. He was no healer, but he’d had enough wounds cleaned lately to know the basics. She would ignore his question about vengeance and that in itself was a sort of answer for the beast- but he could not help as he finished cleaning the wounds at the back of her neck to inhale deeply, pulling in that scent for a later time.

When she did speak, he would listen, leaning back so that he could look into her eyes as she said it had nothing to do with the Mire’s training and more so on not finding a partner she trusted to train her. She trusted him though. He would fight the smile that tugged ever so slightly at his lips, he liked that she trusted him, even if it came with the responsibility of not breaking it. She’d speak of inconveniences and he would shake his head, it was nothing of the sort. He enjoyed fighting, he just…didn’t want to hurt her and to train her, inevitably he would.

Her comment of pity and moving away from his touch would elicit a growl from the warmonger, low and deep, beckoning her to look at him. I’ll train you, Nephthys… I just…don’t want to hurt you.He would finally say, though he did not view her as a sibling, he regarded her with the same protectiveness that he gave Deirdre, he didn’t want harm to come to either of them- especially from him. He would sigh, shifting to rise and move to be in front of her. If you don’t want my pity, then get up. We can start now. A calmness would smooth over his facade as he regarded her, waiting patiently for her answer. He’d train her without pity and he would do his best to keep his feelings out of the way as well- just as he had to do with Deirdre when they were younger and forced to spar with each other.

@Nephthys

Nephthys supposed she could have found it endearing that he didn't want to hurt her. She could have considered him a true gentleman for having the restraint not to lash out at the first opportunity. She could have, but she did not. The Tollaire withdrew into herself, frustrated with his pity and finding it incredibly unbecoming for him to stoop so low as to think she was a fragile little bird. "I shattered his paw, Ronin. I'm not so incapable that I would let you hurt me." Her eyes flashed dangerously up at him, a subtle message she hoped he took to heart. Nephthys was not simply a bird, but a phoenix. She was fire and danger and she could have easily taken another chunk out of Acheron if she had wanted, but she hadn't. Most of that desire had been drowned out by the sex that followed, though she hardly thought it comparable to Ronin's touch. Acheron had lit a fire and then extinguished it, nothing else.

She watched as he stood up, shaking off the pity and choosing to focus on what Nephthys wanted most of all. The lioness would be lying if she said she was up for another fight so soon, but he wasn't giving her much of a choice. Well. He was. She was just choosing to ignore it. The lioness staggered to her paws, airing out all her bloodied wounds for display. The teeth marks on her throat, on her nape, the claw marks down her spine and haunches. The story was left written on her skin, and she knew Ronin would notice. Maybe he would hate her. Maybe he would hate Acheron. Maybe nothing would happen at all.

Nephthys didn't give him the chance to witness the wounds for too long before she attempted to rush directly at him and then attempt to jut her left shoulder forward into the square of his chest. She was exhausted and it showed in her sluggish movements, the way her typically sharp movements were sloppy. Couldn't it have waited a day?

Nephthys vs. @Ronin
Spar/dominance/foreplay (who said that?)
Round 1 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 17 + 20 + 19 + 12 + 4 + 1

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 16 + 20 + 9 + 17

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 6 + 15 + 20 + 11 + 10

speech

She would speak, insulted by his protective nature and he would nod, frowning. She was so capable but by her own words a poor fighter. As she stood, the marks on her throat would prove that. We shall see. He would comment, almost challengingly. She would stand, but she did so tenderly, stiffly, he knew the feeling all too well. Her body wanted to rest and heal, not fight, he imagined her muscles protested with every move, but she did not want his pity- thus as he regarded her, it was not given.

He didn’t have long to look her over, but it was long enough to see the dragging claw marks down her body, fleeting as they were, it instantly clicked for him. Had he not done the same to Slaine, albeit less damagingly, when they’d been intimate. There was a flicker of hurt, his ears falling back as he took a step back, stung by this realization. It meant that when she surged forward to slam her shoulder into his chest, she would connect, forcing the air out of his lungs as a pain bloomed at the fore of his chests, aching deep within.

Ronin gasped for air, even as his body shifted, attempting to pivot to her right as his left paw came up attempting to grasp over her back and hold, not particularly paying attention to if his claws dug into the freshly wounded flesh. Ronin was distracted, still hurting from her blow to the chest, but also something else as well. He could not get it out of his head that she had fucked someone else. The beast would remind himself that she was not his, that they were….well…he didn’t know what they were but it was clear that she did not care for him the same as he cared for her.

That realization hurt worse than any physical wound she could possibly give him.

-- Ice gave permission to edit to fix coding--

Ronin vs @Nephthys
Spar/Dominance/ I thought you liked me?
Round 1 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 4 + 18 + 5 + 13 + 8 + 11

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 2 + 9 + 7 + 12

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 12 + 11 + 10 + 8 + 19

Her entire body was exhausted. She didn't know how long she could keep it up, but it's what she had wanted from him, wasn't it? No pity. It seemed he certainly would have no issues with giving her that, much to her annoyance. It was so simple for him to shut it off that she was almost jealous, because Nephthys' issue had always been feeling too much. Feeling too much and hating every moment of it, desperate to shut it down and feel comfortably numb. She didn't know how he had mastered that ability, but she wanted to learn.

The impact was met with minor resistance. It caught her off guard that he had just.. accepted it the way he had, because where was Ronin the warmonger? He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but did that mean he was going to simply let her win? Nephthys bristled. What's wrong with you? she snarled. This isn't how you fight. Because Nephthys had seen him fight. He was not a kitten with halfhearted attacks as he seemed to be now, almost lazily swinging his arm across her and digging into the skin. Of course it fucking hurt and there would be more blood to stain her coat, but now she was preoccupied with him. Something was off.

Her response was to have frustrated tears well in her eyes as she continued to push forward, never even attempting to use her teeth against his skin. No, this would only stay a battle of claws and brute strength.

Nephthys growled as she attempted to swing her right paw upwards to slash at his underarm, trying to take advantage of his left paw strewn across her back and the opening there.

Nephthys vs. @Ronin
Dominance/who says I don't?
Round 2 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 4 + 1 + 17 + 7 + 20 + 3

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 13 + 11 + 4 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 13 + 10 + 17 + 12

speech



Was it simple to shut it off? Sometimes, when the emotions were not overwhelming. It was easy to turn off the pity and focus on training, he had done that all of his life. Emotions didn’t matter when training, but then again he wasn’t trying to seriously damage his opponent when training. The vicious warmonger controlled his blows when training- the point was to educate and learn, not to injure a comrade. He was far from perfect at it, even now, as they began this dance his emotions would seep through the cracks.

Nephthys was not happy, she would snarl at him, asking what was wrong, declaring this was not how he fought. She was right, it was not how he fought. He was confused, he’d thought she at least cared for him somewhat…though that was obviously not the case. The realization burned hotter than any wound, throbbed more painfully than any bruise. His paw would slap over her back, claws anchoring into her back, but he no longer wanted to pull her close, he wanted to push her away.

Ronin would release her back as her claws cut into his armpit. A growl would rumble in his chest, a warning, he was controlled, but there was a hurt flashing in his gaze, slipping through the cracks. The warmonger would snarl back, wordless, as he attempted to surge forward to shove her back and away from him with his chest and shoulders (ignoring the pain that he knew would blossom as it was already bruised). Jaws reaching warningly in an attempt to cut into flesh if it got too close to him. He wanted her away from him. His emotions confused, he responded the only way he knew how, rejecting the idea of her touch in the moment.

It wasn’t the burn of betrayal, it was just the sting of hurt feelings.

Ronin vs @Nephthys
Spar/Dominance/ you hurt my feelings
Round 2 / 3
Hits:

Rolling 6d20: 4 + 12 + 14 + 6 + 15 + 11

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 15 + 7 + 18 + 14

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 14 + 9 + 6 + 18