impulsivity is the damning compass of which they share; greed, their demanding and relentless motive. mirror images distorted by contrasting moralities and opposing skillsets; but still, olive is quick to latch onto the similarity she pinpoints in his flippant retort. little malice colors his tones despite the target she paints upon her spine, and the grin he dons is one reflected upon her own features. and while they stand as adversaries to a shared goal, there is no sense of loathing to drive their impending altercation, nor to taint their quiet and humid surroundings as they await the commencement of a grueling battle.
but even in that moment, their ambitious endeavor feels as though a
game played between children.
his promise is
kept, and exhilaration courses through her veins as the vultures begin to descend upon the pulpit they create. over-zealous is the gaze that devours the familiar figure of the first responder, and the smirk etches deeper into the folds of her countenance as she registers the approach of her
former plum princess. it is almost of no surprise that @
Anniston arrives so promptly, and even less astounding is the venom she injects into the taunt she offers @
Ryker. and although it were a sentiment intended to berate the male and inflate her confidence, olive can only acknowledge the added pressure to
succeed – and the odds that favor a practiced combatant, as he. for she is no decorated warmonger, but a
feral hound with a lacking battle prowess, clearly evidenced by unscathed flesh and an unimpressive musculature. perhaps she were destined for
failure at his hand, but she were so inclined to
try – just as the brute requests of her.
but the frei yearling soon proves to be among the first of several supporters, and olive’s expression softens as her focus draws to @
Halimede. she is as a beam of sunlight to cut through the dense forest canopy, and her unexpected presence serves to illuminate the pixie’s features with muted contentment – as if forgetful of the gravity of her current situation. but she is silent as the tabby settles upon the outskirts of the arena with anni, offering little else than warmth in the form of a gleaming, lingering gaze.
@
Aurochs and @
Lyric are welcomed company she acknowledges with an impish smirk, and their rallying sees her spirits soar higher and higher still – even as the tension mounts with each passing moment spent without bloodshed. a ghost of
olive past, too, manifests and takes to the side of hali, and a fervent carmine stare lingers upon @
Vághan with a mix of incredulity and radiant joy as a result of his unexpected return. but it is the crooning call of @
Ghyslaine ♔ that earns the greatest pause, that garners the quickest heart palpitations among her spectators, and her cherished presence proves to be olive’s greatest incentive to
prevail. an influx of anticipation builds within the pixie, then, and her attention reverts to ryker with a trailing gaze as her paws begin to absently knead the floor. and even as she catches a glimpse of
red (though, perhaps it were merely a desperate product of wishful thinking) the pixie cannot afford further distraction, now – no matter how familiar she were with the trickling spectators, and no matter how much of a
crowd pleaser she longed to be.
for at her core, olive is an
entertainer; and while lack of the aptitude for fighting, she is intent upon putting on a
show worthy of her growing audience.
his invitation incites the beat of butterfly wings against her stomach’s lining, and for a fleeting moment, she refrains from obliging the signal. she is near-frantic as her pupils trace each contour of his masculine physique, her breath growing shallow in the midst of her hesitation, her chest heaving with uncertainty. for olive is a coward, after all, and cowards were oh-so prone to
running away in the face of danger. and ryker, as she perceives, embodies the
danger she’d sooner avoid.
and so she
runs – but for once, the coward intends upon running directly into the clutches of
danger.
where her opponent is blessed with lean sinew and a towering stature, she is blessed with the gift of
swiftness in her compact figure. it is this innate talent for agility that olive intends on utilizing to her advantage, but it is also one of the only strategies she can rely upon with her inexperience. despite this limited number of tricks hidden up her sleeve, however, the pixie is blinded by youthful exuberance and optimism, and she were not wont to bow so easily. she’d been battered and bruised before, after all
(and for stakes much less severe), and even then, she had reigned triumphant by means of sheer tenacity. perhaps she’d earn the gods favor once more, and lightning would manage to strike in the same place
twice.
she is as a derailed locomotive on a trajectory for destruction, and her opponent is the intended casualty as she attempts to bridge the gap between them with swift and lengthy strides. and while her diminutive size eliminates the likelihood of toppling her opponent with brute force, alone, olive seeks to leverage her prospective momentum with an attempted head-on collision, anyway – if only for the sake of hopeful distraction from the favored pick of her arsenal. jaws gape and lips peel from concealed weaponry as her skull attempts to snake towards the base of his left-sided neck, brutal in their attempted endeavor to clamp and clamp down
hard upon vulnerable flesh. for her boyish opponent is lack of the typical, thick armor provided by a matted mane – equipped with a peculiar mohawk, instead – and she were intent upon exploiting his rare haircut to her own benefit.
and while olive had not yet mastered
(or even grazed the surface of) the art of forced submission, she were well-versed enough in the tactics of
prey takedown. and for the time-being, ryker were reduced to naught but an easy kill left for the taking at the mercy of a seasoned huntress – at least, by way of
delusion.
olive vs. ryker
for
firnen rainforest
one of five
hits: Rolling 3d20: 11 + 5 + 10
dodge: Rolling 8d20: 7 + 16 + 17 + 12 + 2 + 8 + 18 + 9
luck: Rolling 5d20: 16 + 12 + 13 + 11 + 19
BG — ART — CODE
