Cirilla was not to know that @Eric had addressed her in the same way he addressed everyone else. The tone of familiarity hit a nerve, combined with the words that seemed to slip from his mouth under assumption. Cirilla had always been a ticking time-bomb, ready to explode at any given moment should something pull the trigger just a little too much. Eric had not quite met that mark yet, but the bubbling anger soon dissipates into the ground beneath her as the fear crawls over the man's face. She releases her grip on the fool and watches as he falls to his side like a child. Her attention is now firmly fixated on her husband, something the crowd was yet to learn. How about now, rather than waiting for the horrifically cheesy wedding.

@Ambrose calls her by her full name, but the words that slip from his mouth do not make the situation any better. But it was not Ambrose's words - at least, the one's in the here and now, the present - that push Cirilla to pause on her actions and think about what she was doing, and how she was reacting. Her mind cast back to the conversation they had when they had declared their love for each other, that fateful night. Without warning, her ears begin to pound with the sound of her breathing as she regains control. The tan lioness releases her grip from his shoulder. If you want to remain my husband, She breathes, trying to keep her voice to a low hum, but not particularly worried if @Uma and Eric hear. You better start telling me everything.

But before Ambrose can speak a word more, she places a single digit across his lips. But not now. Later.

Some nagging, inexplicable annoyance pricks at the back of her mind. Her brother's voice comes in an imploring cadence, the same one he has fruitlessly employed against her innumerable times before, somehow remote yet insufferably loud all at once. Hellfire burns beneath her fur as the remorseless eye of the sun leers at them from its zenith. Under its scalding gaze, the scuffle continues, with Cirilla seizing @Eric's throat. She watches the woman's rage spend itself, and although she makes no move to interfere, she is dimly aware of the palomino's eyes passing over her. To his credit, he, at least, does not venture from her brother's side, not even with the Sigrún coming down on him with all the inescapable force of a tidal wave... unlike others in present company. It's the suggestion of @Ambrose being her husband that sets her surging forward with a snarl, seeking to interpose between her and the two men.

"Nah. Let's talk about it now." Her lip is lifted in an ugly, omnious sneer. "You want to know about Zelda? She was the reason we joined the Oasis in the first place. Someone who spun all these grand and wonderful stories of free passage into the place, food aplenty... maybe someday taking the crown. Someone I thought we could trust. But she turned out to be a flake. Sound familiar?" She prowls, circling the other woman with an agitated flick of her tail. "Maybe Eric's an idiot, but at least he's no flake. He was there. You weren't. My brother got his eye gouged out, and you weren't there." Her eyes flash dangerously, gaze unsteady as the image of the lioness wavers like a flame in the desert heat, vacillating between Zelda and Cirilla. "You wanna call him husband? You haven't earned the goddamn right." Her voice has dropped an octave or two, the quiet calm before the storm... and then she's erupting toward her, lurching upward as she attempts to envelop the other in a deadly embrace, a vicious effort to topple her.

@Cirilla vs. Uma
Just Uma being a toxic personality again Major maim
Round 1 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 17 + 7 + 4 + 16 + 1 + 13 + 10

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 12 + 9 + 8 + 20

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 2 + 19 + 1 + 15 + 10

image to jazzyblu + code to pine

It is not @Ambrose or @Eric that steals Cirilla's attention. The poison-laced words that slip from @Uma's mouth (much to Cirilla's surprise) cause Cirilla to turn, pulling the singular digit away from Ambrose's lips, her body inching itself to face the mocha woman head-on. Cirilla's expression changes from one of emotion to one of nothingness - all emotion drains away in a singular second, and something primitive within the woman's mind switches.

And at that moment -- silence ensues.

Silence isn't always empty. Sometimes it is full of answers.

Cirilla studies Uma as time seems to slow. Hadn't she been the one to worship the ground that the Sigrún woman walked upon? Hadn't she been the one to suggest that the three of them work together? Hadn't she been the one to say that Ambrose was the one that needed protecting? Cirilla's rose eyes watch Uma as she prowls closer, her words spitting out in a venomous hate. Anger begins to bubble within Cirilla's chest, something instinctive and primal that the woman had suppressed for a long time. The feelings and emotions that she had experienced in her childhood were unleashed, Uma's words slicing open the barriers Cirilla had worked so hard to put into place. If Ambrose, or Eric, were to look at Cirilla's face now, they would not recognise the woman that stood before them.

Come, you spirits,
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty!

Cirilla would not be held accountable for her actions. All emotion that she had learnt to feel, to express, to understand had gone, snatched away upon the wind that seemed to flutter through the badlands. Her eyes move to a storm, and her expression turns sickeningly solemn.

You weren't there.
You weren't there.
You weren't --- Cirilla snaps. There are no spiteful words that fall from her lips, there was no venom ejected from her tongue. There is simply silence.

Uma erupts towards Cirilla, and she knew that the woman meant business. She did not care, not anymore: the lioness no longer considered herself couth enough to respect boundaries. All the anger, rejection, confusion, hatred and bitterness began to manifest through the way Cirilla knew best: her claws.

Cirilla allows the mocha lioness to wrap her claws around her shoulders. Whatever damage Uma was trying to do, Cirilla would ensure it was in vain. What was a few more scars to the collection? Without a sound, the scarred lioness parts her jaw and attempts to wrap it round the woman's throat, attempting to gain purchase on there. Simultaneously, Cirilla attempts, with a splayed right paw, to force it into Uma's chest and push.

She wanted to fight? Cirilla would bring a war.

Cirilla vs. @Uma
for Major Maim
Round one of four

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 13 + 11 + 14 + 3 + 5 + 16 + 18

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 8 + 5 + 19 + 11

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 16 + 15 + 2 + 7 + 13

@Cirilla does not deign to reply, and that works just fine. She's through talking. Her claws do plenty of that for her, and like the assassin, she lets them speak for themselves as they find purchase on the other woman's shoulders, drawing into skin and dragging down as she tucks her chin into her chest and ducks, displaying considerable acuity for one typically so slow-moving. The woman's seeking jaws are provided with nothing but great, hard skull to bite, but it stings all the same, her face pulling back in a wincing snarl as the skin there is split, triplet scrawls of blood manifesting across the slope of her triple-striped forehead and issuing blood upon her brow.

Thick, coppery rivulets of it drip into her eyes, now made all the more crazed for reasons outside of their unsettling color. But her focus is on the woman, this woman who presumes to take her brother from her, who she trusted with his very life. She doesn't recognize her now, foul and foreign in her hideous betrayal. She doesn't even realize she's bleeding until some of it spatters onto the bridge of her nose with a startling coldness, and the upsurge of rage tears free from her breast in one lengthy, primordial yell. Fury incarnate, she pushes back against the paw pressing into her blocky chest, throwing her full weight into the Sigrún in an attempt to overbalance her before she can do the same unto her, single-minded as a starved wolf and uncaring of what part of herself she exposes to further attack.

@Cirilla vs. Uma
Major maim
Round 2 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 12 + 3 + 18 + 16 + 19 + 7 + 14

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 4 + 14 + 7 + 12

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 10 + 2 + 8 + 11 + 7

image to jazzyblu + code to pine

Ambrose doesn't fear Cirilla. No, quite the opposite—she's always been at the helm of things, never backing down even as public opinion turns against her. But she has abandoned herself to rage more than once, and even if he doesn't fear for his own wellbeing, he fears for @Eric's as he's throttled and thrown aside.

He hardly expects any different from the woman whose body is a map of the violence she's distributed through the years, but attacking Eric is a step too far. His words seem to bring @Cirilla back to reality, and the bright flame of her fury gutters slow and goes out.

His heartbeat is still roaring in his ears when Cirilla approaches him again, and he feels a strange chill steal through him as she addresses him in those dark-vowelled tones. He wants nothing more but to straighten out this entire mix-up, but Cirilla, seeming to have read his mind, quickly presses a finger to his lips.

And so his shoulders sag, tension flooding out of his body all at once. Not now. He can wait—Eric and Uma have seen too much of their dirty laundry aired already. More than enough, it seems, as Uma suddenly finds her fury and begins to accuse Cirilla. His head pounds, sharp and heavy, as his twin sister levels her venom at his wife.

Everything is all wrong.

"Uma, it's—" Fine. That's what he wants to say before Uma barrels into the Sigrún. Cirilla returns her ferocity in kind, attempting to gain purchase on her throat. Ambrose watches the struggle, slack-jawed, and for once, he's speechless. It's like watching the world fall apart around him as the two women make every effort to come out on top.

His first instinct is to protect Cirilla, but he knows trying to get between the two would just end up in him being reduced to fleshy ribbons. "Are you kidding me? Break it up! Now!" It feels like he's trying to break up a fight between a pair of warring cubs, a pair of particularly dangerous cubs, teeth and claws striking flesh, indiscriminate as a forest fire.

And the fire is about to consume them all.

CODE BY LARS, MODIFIED BY GUNNER

"Maybe Eric's an idiot, but at least he's no flake.” Wow, was that- Did Uma almost compliment him? Hold on, these are not tears, they’re just liquid pride! Eric felt like the odd one out, the only fool not in on the joke, as things came to blows. It was like watching a nature documentary, or Godzilla versus King Kong. There was obviously unresolved sexual tension between the two women, and whilst Eric had never had his heart set on having Ambrose’s girlfriend come and rescue them, @Uma clearly had. He doesn’t hear @Cirilla dropping the h-bomb, but the sweet little sister certainly yelled it loud enough. “Wait, you’re…you’re married?” Eric turned to @Ambrose . “And you didn’t choose me to be your best man?” He had half the mind to start a maim match himself. “I didn’t even get to throw your bachelor party!” The NERVE! Typical Eric. His ability to make even the most personal, intimate thing such as a clandestine wedding about him was simply…incredible. Though it’s not a result of vanity, but a leftover habit from trying to include himself in the games as a cub. He hated this feeling, the feeling that everyone else knew something he didn’t. They were all the same age, they all went way back, he was just the old lump they’d adopted. The one who bought the beer. Once they were old enough, they wouldn’t need him around. Ambrose, like a haggard young mother, attempted to break up the two, and Eric stepped up to try and help. “Yeah, come on, ladies! guys aren’t worth fighting over. Especially this one. He farts in his sleep.” But "Sentimental Boy" is my nom de plume Art by Swan, Code by Swan (fixed by Cala)

Had someone asked Cirilla if she would be fighting her sister-in-law when she had first met Uma and @Ambrose, the tan lioness would have likely laughed in their face. Never would she have expected such a tumultuous relationship to pinnacle into this, where they were fighting tooth and claw, but for what? A man? The idea was almost comical.

Uma's claws pierce through the skin that surrounded her shoulders, her claws dragging themselves in a downward motion. Any other lioness might call out in pain, but there was a stone-cold silence from Cirilla that some might find unnerving, or chilling. Not that it mattered - the lioness had become non-receptive to pain a long time ago - the feeling had become one of a distant memory since.

Cirilla's jaws do not find purchase against Uma's neck like she had wanted, but instead scrape against hard skull-like flesh as they rip along her forehead. Uma pulls back her face in a snarl as her skin is split, blood trickling down her pretty little cheek bones. What a shame.

There is something within Uma that has changed, and there is a part of Cirilla that wonders if, released unto thee, the mocha lioness would be much more dangerous and unhinged than Cirilla could be. If someone said something at the wrong time, or something in Uma's mind hit the big red button. Cirilla was not quite sure, but what she did know was that fighting the woman was both a thrill and a threat. Her right paw is forced into Uma's chest, her claws piercing the skin as the frenzied woman pushes back against her weight. There is no denying that Uma was slighter bigger (and heavier) than Cirilla, so there is little the Sigrún can do as her body is pushed back, her paws sliding in the ground below. Cirilla braces, pushing her paws into the ground for increased balanced.

The lioness attempts, with her right paw, to forcefully rip it away from Uma's chest in a jarred motion. Cirilla wishes to return her paw to the ground in order to have all for back where they need to be, not caring what potential damage she might do to the lioness in the process. Simultaneously, Cirilla opens her jaws once more and attempts to latch herself around Uma's muzzle, attempting to find a purchase there.

Cirilla vs. @Uma
for Major Maim
Round two of four

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 4 + 17 + 9 + 13 + 15 + 8 + 16

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 11 + 4 + 20 + 3

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 15 + 20 + 8 + 13 + 18

The words of her brother are lost to her, drowned by the feverish rage that rises in her veins, pounding her ears. Her claws tear along Cirilla's shoulders, but she does not cry out. Fleetingly, she marvels how that can be, as she had sought to inflict maximum damage, but her resolve tightens all the same. She may not cry out now, but she will, eventually— Uma intends to make this hurt. There is no sense of thrill that accompanies the thought. In fact, it scarcely registers at all; there is only the unabating rage, and the all-encompassing desire to rip.

She pushes into her rival, teeth gritted as she all but impales her own flesh on the other's claws. Blood oozes from the opened wounds, soaking her ivory chest in bright vermilion. She roars, as much in anger as in pain, but as of their own accord, her legs keep urging her onward, shunting Cirilla backwards as her paws leave a stationary trail in the sand. Uma leaves a trail of her own; one of bleeding scarlet, dripping from her head and chest unchecked.

Fall, god damn you. Cry out.

But she does neither. Instead, the pressure is removed from her chest, and she winces as her claws drag away, leaving bloody trails.

Chin still tucked into her chest, she has barely just enough time to catch the advent of those incoming teeth, honing in on her in a sweeping arc. She jerks her head up, attempting to drive it into the woman's chin, nose, or any other part she can reach. There is nothing premeditated about the move, and it certainly won't keep her for long, but maybe it'll give her a nice nosebleed, or a concussion, if she should be so lucky.

She doesn't think, but instinctively takes advantage of that small window of time where the other lioness might feel dazed from the headbutt still, attempting to bed her jaws into the side of her neck, wanting nothing more in that moment than to squeeze the breath from her— squeeze it from her like the scared, cowering animal she knows her to be.

@Cirilla vs. Uma
Major maim
Round 3 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 14 + 6 + 18 + 13 + 1 + 8 + 15

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 6 + 16 + 4 + 15

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 18 + 20 + 6 + 2 + 17

image to jazzyblu + code to pine

Two broken souls, scarred with the wounds from their demons, playing a dangerous game of trust and love --

The two women continue to dance around one another, each endeavouring to get the upper paw before the other could strike. Uma's dedication to her brother was remarkable, but Cirilla would not allow herself to stand aside whilst the mocha woman had thrown venomous words at her. Not today. The anger within the Sigrún's chest continued to burn and rage on, its flame building with each passing moment, until she had the primal impulse to kill at the forefront of her mind.

Her mother had always said --

-- make it pretty and train it to kill.

Cirilla returns her right paw to the ground after forcefully ripping it away from Uma's chest. She expected the scars there to become ugly ones, a permanent memory of the battle here today. The roar that erupts from Uma's petty lips is one that does not cause Cirilla to back away or recoil, but it instead fuels her. The agony that Uma might be feeling filled Cirilla with joy, as the brown lioness encompassed the primal instincts coursing through her veins.

Uma tucks her chin into her chest, but then does something slightly unpredictable - the mocha lioness jerks her head upwards, causing the two to collide in a battle of stubborn nature as her solid head crashes into Cirilla's, dazing the woman for a brief moment. A headache would soon blossom, but it was a small price to pay. Blinking through the pain as the clouds begin to form a steady haze, Cirilla grunts in frustration. She pulls her head away in a natural retaliation, meaning that Uma's jaws do not grip at her neck, but instead.... thin air.

The anger that had begun to form within the brown lioness had begun to bubble over, and Cirilla feels herself needing to push harder. With a flash of her fangs, the lioness lunges forwards once more and attempts to shove her right shoulder back into the center of Uma's chest, attempting to push the lioness back even further and wind her. Simultaneously, the lioness attempts to hook her left paw around the back of Uma's right paw, attempting to unbalance the lioness and, should her plan work, send her toppling to the ground.

Cirilla vs. @Uma
for Major Maim
Round three of four

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 1 + 9 + 11 + 18 + 2 + 8 + 17

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 17 + 18 + 4 + 20

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 13 + 17 + 2 + 18 + 1

Perhaps they are too alike; after all, when fire meets fire, it sparks off an uncontrollable conflagration, and so it happens now, with neither intending to be quenched or tempered, each seeking only to devour the other, utterly unheeding of what they burn along the way.

The headbutt connects, profoundly satisfying, succeeding in momentarily staggering the other. Not long enough, it seems; as she follows up with a snap of her jaws, they click closed around empty air, and with her anticipated anchor slipping just out of reach, she staggers forward a step. She's still trying to find her equilibrium when she comes for her again, and she can see the savage flash of fangs as she slams shoulder-first into her bloodied chest, the still-tender wounds there flaring with a fresh bout of pain. In a move that completely turns the tables, Uma is now the one forced backwards. She doesn't spare much thought on her counterattack, her own fangs baring to try and latch onto the first thing that meets her sight: Cirilla's shoulder.

One quick-striking paw sweeps her foot out from under her, some distant realization widening her eyes as her back leg gives way. This time, she makes no attempt to salvage her equilibrium, ears drawn back stubbornly as she falls. Muffled snarls escape the corners of her mouth as she attempts to clamp down, hard, aiming to drag her down with her and tear tendon. Outsized paws endeavor to loop around the other woman's shoulders as she goes, trying to direct Cirilla beneath her in a final effort to make her bear the brunt of the impact and hopefully cushion her fall.

@Cirilla vs. Uma
Major maim
Round 4 / 4
Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 17 + 8 + 6 + 3 + 5 + 4 + 19

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 6 + 14 + 11 + 1

Luck:

Rolling 5d20: 3 + 1 + 6 + 7 + 12

image to jazzyblu + code to pine