It has been a week ever since her battle with the alabaster woman. The wound was healing up, but it was a pain in the ass to eat or talk. And still, she did not regret the fight - she would do it again, even if she knew the outcome. It was one of the rare moments where Erna felt alive. Their existence was boring, considering the Jarl's orders, but she was an obedient hound of war. She would do as her kinsmen said, lest they sent her flying.

The injured lioness stepped towards the river, her ears flickering at every subtle sound. The muscles of her fit body tensed beneath the taut flesh of her back as she crouched by the edge. A pathetic sight, she thought. Her face was torn but she didn't care about it - what ached more was the defeat inflicted. She must train harder. Her lips parted as she took a slow sip. It was painful no matter what she did.

_{ART — CODE}

he wasn't sure he much liked this jungle. the air was heavy, damp, and seemed to cling to his fur. it was not the dry heat of the desert that he preferred, but he was determined to scour the lands for the right place to claim as his own. there were quite a few prides, here, and he was determined to make one of them his. but then he spots her and she is the bright spot in his day. the mere sight of her is enough to send his thoughts scattering, pride business and politics forgotten as he slunk closer with a rumbling greeting. it is only as he draws close enough to smell the hurt that his gaze hardens, and he scans their surroundings with tense muscles as if he might see the threat. "what the fuck happened," harsh words, touched with just enough concern to make it clear his anger was not directed at her. "who hurt you?" closer, now, to take full stock of her injuries, to see the jagged scar across her face that makes him want to tear the world to shreds for daring to touch her.

image by moogle, code by koi

The cold water stings the wounds no matter how hard she tried to avoid that. She decided to just bear with the pain and lapped up the refreshing drink without any other careful maneuvers. The rustling of grasses and leaves was enough to put her on edge as she quickly stood up on her feet. Her gaze scrutinized the approach of another, realizing that it was none other than Alaric.

The tension didn't leave her body, though. Instead, her claws gripped the ground almost unnoticeably when he shouted an angry question. She exhaled the breath that she subconsciously held all this time, her lip quivering in annoyance at his second question. "No one hurt me." The wench hissed through gritted teeth, glancing back towards the surface of the water and taking another sip. There were healing wounds on both her shoulders and some other smaller lacerations that will remind her about her failure. The thought that she could've killed or at least maimed the other never left her mind, it was a missed opportunity. One that she missed because she failed. Because she was not good enough, not strong enough. Next time, though, she will not hesitate.

There was no sign of her inner turmoil, albeit her pissed off reaction. She was not one to seek counseling or complain about her defeats. Erna will take those feelings and shove them in the back of her mind, let the demons that lurk there devour them. She wanted to believe her failure was but a lesson to be learned, but deep down she couldn't stop beating herself over it.

his blood boiled. rage tinged the world red, more so when she snapped back at him. Alaric gripped the ground with sharp claws, the tension making his muscles taut and ready. a low growl rose in his chest as he pressed closer, invading her space and not caring if it bothered her. "tell me," he all but snarled the word as he stood above her, venomous eyes sharpened to a point. a name would be enough, so that if he ever came across it... anger was a testament to just how much he cared for her, even if he might deny it then and there. he was just as liable to turn on her if she denied him, the need to spill blood rising to an almost unbearable level.

image by moogle, code by koi

While the thick-furred woman might've taken the chimera Sigrun's eye, she felt like she had still lost that day. Her teeth had been gnawing at the Sigrun's neck, so damn close to ending another rat's life... and yet her body had betrayed her. Now, this little fight... how many more times must she taste defeat? I'll not sleep, she promised herself a punishment. I will train until I drop. A vow.

Alaric towered above her and she nonchalantly lifted her gaze up to him, water trickling down her marked chin. She felt her heart quiver at his demanding tone and iron-clad gaze, the hairs on her back rising. She couldn't help it but fear prodding his anger any further. Would he strike her? She was certain he had the capacity. He was a man, after all. Erna shifted to her full height slowly. "Some hündin," she began, almost spitting out her words. "Met her in this scorched land." One of ash and smoke. The Rike lioness rolled her broad shoulders in a shrug. "Sigrun ally, no doubt. They are everywhere - like cockroaches." How do you stomp out so many, when you have but only one foot?

she relented and his anger was quelled, but only a little. she did not have a name to give, he assumed, but he still wanted to tear to shreds the one that did this to her. she speaks, though, of the sigrun, and he is interested enough to clench his teeth and set aside his thoughts of retribution. "tell me about the sigrun." his words were still a growl, his anger still on high, and he does not yet sit before her. alaric is demanding, insistent, and he will not easily drop this topic. even if she made his heart pound with a separate need, a different desire; for now he shelved that. barely. "tell me about your enemies so that they may be mine," he hissed, his claws flexing against the ground, the tension in his body barely restrained.

image by moogle, code by koi

Alaric is a barbarian, he does not falter at the idea of battling this whole wretched valley. No, instead he sharpens his claws and asks for direction. Erna will not allow him to be her protector, for women of her descent did not need one. However, the idea of her lover being her battle comrade was far more welcomed. As it should be.

Tell me, he asks of their now common enemy. Her gut churns in disgust at the thought of those scum, the flames of her ire rising higher at just their mention. My clan has fought theirs far longer than I've even lived, longer than my parents have lived. Many Rike have fallen, but we have felled just as many of their scum. A small smirk curls at the corner of her lip, the pain immediately hijacking the right side of her wounded face. She was born for this - her life's mission. After my kin dispersed and we left the homeland, we found a fresh Sigrun trail leading up to this land. Their prey was here. I saw this Sigrun wench at one of your blood events, at this Brook. We fought them then and my kin came out victorious. She omitted the fact that she had lost her battle. It was still a wound that could not heal easily.

As she speaks he moves, coiling around her, pressing his bulk against her side as her words fill his ears. He takes it all in, every damn bit of it, and he rumbles his discontent at the thought of these bastards felling her kin. Alaric is given her version, her side, but already he hates the Sigrun with a deep passion -- if only for the crimes they have committed against her. Ironic, isn't it, that the King he calls friend has created more of the creatures. "The Rike are strong," he comments, as he curls around behind her and comes up on her opposite side, closer to the river. His teeth flash and snap at her skin, small pinches that could almost be called affectionate if not for the growl that rumbled in his chest. "We will make them stronger. You need a home, a safe place for your children. For a new generation of Rike to grow strong. If we are to fell these Sigrun." He spits the name, harsh and bitter, and speaks of the Rike as if he was one of them. Starke he may be (and always will) but the union of the two bloodlines will be a glorious and devastating thing.

image by moogle, code by koi

It is not talons or teeth that meet her flesh, but soft warm skin pressing into her body. She felt the irresistible need to sink her teeth into his taut muscle, with the intent to harm but only to experience the pleasure of his protest. The low rumble of his discontented growl vibrates through her body and the wench presses closer to her man, clenching her teeth in an attempt to quelch her desire.

He turns then, nuzzling across her in a cat-like manner and coming up to her opposite side. She tenses at the snap of his teeth but does not falter. They only nibble at her skin and she lets out a low purr. "Ja, We are." The northern woman proclaims, narrowing her eyes into the reflecting surface of the river. I am. She repeats it time and time again. Perhaps one day she will believe it. Her lover was more than right - they needed a stronghold, even a single one would do for now. Later, maybe they will take over more - she was more than certain that the Rike men had those ambitions. "Taking down their leaders is top priority," As much as she wanted to rip and tear at every single Sigrun she sees, Erna had to obey Eulalia's orders before anything else. "We have been instructed to lay low by our Jarl." It threw a frustrating wrench in her plans, but she shuddered every time at the thought of being punished as Sunniva had been. Not because of the physical pain, for she knew that would heal fast. No, as much as that scared her as well, she knew that falling out of favor with the Jarl and his Second will mean falling out of favor with all of the Rike. That meant certain death. "But should you secure a kingdom," she grinned. "-- we will be there." Eulalia will have to see the advantage in this plan. And oh, how much will he award her for securing this alliance?

They came together time and again, speaking of destruction and mayhem, taking and claiming and weaving a violent tapestry. A future of chaos and madness and he can barely tamp down the thrill that courses through him to think of it. Her body presses to his and he rumbles a different sound, a needier sound, a reminder that before they were done he would take her again and bury deeper beneath her skin. Alaric would sink his hooks in and he would not let go -- he would claim and possess and twine his future with hers. "You are," he hisses, an echo of her thoughts, an insistence. She was, and together they would be unstoppable. "Together... they will not be able to touch us." He grinned, practically salivating at the thought of it. At first he wants to rail against the rule to lay low. He wants to berate their leader, their Jarl, for hiding like a scared little mouse. It is his first instinct as his lip curls and his claws grip the earth. It passes and reason fills its place -- they needed to grow, train, and he would play his role to fill the world with her kin. With his kin. "Soon," he purred, he promised, as he drew his tongue along the back of her neck. It is a gentle touch followed by a much harsher pinch of his teeth, enough to break the skin if she allowed it. "Soon I will take what we deserve and you..." he pulled his head away to look her in the eye, "you will bear my cubs. They will be the future, Rike and Starke, and then will destroy whatever pieces we cannot." It is not a question, he is not asking. She will be his wife, the mother of his children, and he will take again and again what she has so willingly offered.

image by moogle, code by koi