Claws and teeth clashed together as the two lions rounded up. Keligan felt his opponent's teeth and claws dig into his flesh as he successfully head butted @Lucanus. Tearing himself away from the Andal lion, he lashed his bobbed tail behind him. His wounds bleeding and broken nose hurting more from his head butt he delivered. He was going to feel that one in the morning. Turning to @Caltáriel, he flashed slight fang. Next time, stay out of other pride's business lest you risk this again. Turning to Lucanus, he flicked his bobbed tail behind him. Take the delicate flower home. War doesn't suit her. No, it didn't. @Sunder, on the other hand, Keligan knew that the Cove Barony could handle herself and was as war hungry as he was.

SUBMASTER: PALADIN
+5 Complete a fight (vs Lucanus)
+5 Lose a fight (vs Lucanus)

_{— ART — CODE}

Lucanus felt the Cove lion tear himself away and, feeling the sting of his cuts and the throbbing of his paw, he was all too glad to oblige that separation. The manner in which @Keligan turned then to speak to @Caltáriel, flashing a fang as he did so, nearly sent the Savante charging forward again—but it was over, he reminded himself as he listened to the inky lion's words, better able to hear them now that the thundering and anxious pinging in his ears was finally abating. War doesn't suit her, the Caladan man had spat. Lucanus agreed. But where one man meant it as an insult, the other considered it the best compliment.

Caltáriel was free. He hadn't failed. He hadn't failed. There were no thoughts of victory nor boastfulness in the young man, only the overwhelming relief that he hadn't been found wanting. Aware of the skin peeled back on his cheek and how hideous it must look—forget the fact that it hurt; Luc was more concerned with currently shabby state of appearance—he reflexively angled that side of his body away from the snowy swan as he turned to her then.

Reminded afresh of her wounds, the sight of Keligan's jaws clamped around her throat flashing unbidden across his mind's eye, Luc's pale muzzle wrinkled in a silent snarl. I need to take a look at the damage, he rumbled quietly as he neared her, which was a challenging task considering that he was less focused on getting from point a to point b than he was shielding the right side of her from his eyes and also trying not to limp from the pain that screamed in his shoulder with each step. His gaze avoided finding her eyes directly, instead dancing around her face and body with an air of nervousness and discomfort.

I can get you patched up enough to make the trip home. More combat medic than healer, he'd be able to stop the bleeding, slap something on to prevent infection, and even find her something to chew on for pain. Anything further than that, he hoped that the summit had skilled women in their ranks. Lucanus made a mental note to check for that before leaving her there. He pressed the thought hard into his mind, determined not to lose it among the torrent of words battling in his brain to be heard. His brow, already shadowed by the little dark cloud hanging over his head, furrowed deeply with the effort.

SUNDER

Next time, stay out of other pride's business lest you risk this again. Take the delicate flower home. War doesn't suit her. Sunder had cringed when watching the brutal fight between men. She wasn't even sure how @Keligan was still standing after the headbutt he had delivered to @Lucanus. Part of her was relieved that @Caltáriel would not be returning to the Cove with them, perhaps it was a jealous streak coursing through her momentarily. She shook the thoughts away, there was nothing to be jealous about. Sunder knew that she and Keligan had bonded, and would continue to do so through the countless injuries they both obtained. Speaking of injuries, her gaze would move to scrutinize Keligan's newest injuries, he would need a strong tonic when they made it back to the Cove. Rising from her hiding place Sunder would move quickly and quietly so as not to attract attention. Hopefully she could beat Keligan home and have the tonic waiting for him. Along with a few other things to help ease his pain.

exit.

[assassin exp]
+5 Spy on an individual exchange (2/2)
+5 Practice stealth (2/2)
+10 Successfully stay hidden for the duration of a thread (2/2)

code by flea, art by kim

It was far more nerve-wracking watching @Lucanus fight than it was to go through it herself.

Caltáriel had gotten the short stick during her engagements, and where Alaric had left her throat scarred, @Keligan had nearly sat right on her until she tapped out (think: uncle! uncle!). And yet, her heart never beat quite so fast, her fear never quite sat so deep in her belly. Caltáriel bit her lip and watched with wide eyes as the two men engaged each other, attacking with a ferocity she would have been damned to muster. The expertise with which they danced seemed akin to the natural skill she had when hunting; where everything felt natural, where everything felt right.

Perhaps, even deeper, it were the way Lucanus had looked at her.

Pouty and upset with herself as she was, there was a certain charm that came with a valiant knight coming to save her honor. While such notions of law that lay claim to females in such a brutal manner would have been sacraligious in her homelands, Caltáriel had adjusted well to the wild ways of Amaryllis, even if she were surprised at every turn.

She were far too enraptured with the hastily-approaching conclusion of their battle that she had not cared to notice @Sunder hiding nearby. The battle grew to its fervent peak, and right when the Illyrian thought that Keligan may have taken the upper hand, Lucanus finds himself the victor as the two finally part from each other, and Caltáriel releases the breath that had been held and burning in her lungs. Yes! she cried out, flinging herself to her paws; before, quickly, an embarrassed heat flushed across her face. Ahem.

Keligan's scolding quickly draws away any lingering embarrassment, and the frantic and excited thrill of her heart. Her brows furrowed, and a girlish pout wills away her blushed cheeks. It wasn't your pride either. She quips back, letting her tail flick out behind her with an irritated twitch. Next time, this delicate flower will sit on you.

Yeah. That'll show him.

As Keligan turned to Lucanus, Caltáriel was almost certainly blowing raspberries behind his back; but as the beast began to turn to leave and the Andal turned his attentions toward her, every teasing and taunting bit of Caltáriel left. I need to take a look at the damage, he says, immediately intent on assessing her wounds and checking each and every part of her. Although breathless and battered, she had come far more unscathed from this battle than she had the last, and the wounds she had gotten were akin to ones she'd get hunting, glutton as she was.

All that looking and franticking and fretting all about and all Caltáriel wanted was for his eyes to catch hers.

Home— she repeats, and reaches out her two forepaws, hoping to catch Lucanus' chin and bring him up to where their faces met. —Is with you.

She smiled; sweetly, with a gentle cock of her head.

Isn't that how it works? You won.

@Lucanus had been glad to win over @Caltáriel but Keligan was not bothered if he had actually taken home the Summit woman or not. The blackened beast looked at the Andal lion as he approached the lioness and slightly rolled his eyes. But it wasn't for the words that were spoken, it was him trying to hide the damage. Even though Keligan lost, it actually wasn't an issue for him. Especially since unbeknownst to him, Sunder had been hidden from their sights. Flicking his ears down at Caltáriel's words, he sneered. All is fair in war sweetheart. I could have easily not let Lucanus fight for you. I could have just brought you back home as a prisoner. Ignoring her comment about her sitting on him.

Then looking at the Andal lion, Next time, I might not be so considerate. Turning to leave the Pit, Keligan stopped for a moment and added, I did this one as a courtesy only. Then slowly making his way out of the Pit to head towards the Cove, he limped along. Sore from his fight in the Hollows and then here, he needed to soak in the Cove's waters.

EXIT

_{— ART — CODE}

Much to his surprise, taunting leapt from @Caltáriel's lips, the kind he expected more from his brothers than from the woman he'd considered soft and mild. There's a quick flicker of assessment in his eyes before they harden as they settled in her own eyes. Hey, he chided gently, I just got done fighting the guy, let's not get something else started so soon. Despite the firmness that he wore on his face like a mask, his lips twitched as they fought a losing battle to suppress an amused smirk. Feeling his mouth give way into mirth, he quickly averted his gaze in an attempt to hide the expression, lest it encourage her.

The sound of @Keligan's voice drew his attention over to the dark lion again, a guardedness about the young Savante as he took in his words. He spoke the truth. He'd had no reason to offer for Lucanus to fight him for Caltáriel's freedom, and the fact that he had would be one that would nag at the young Savante for weeks to come. Tight-lipped, he offered a single nod in response, eager to disengage. He was bloody, he didn't yet know the extent of Caltáriel's injuries, and then there was that whole matter of the fact that his father was currently engaged in battle for the future home of their kin. And he wasn't there. The storm cloud flashed across his brow again.

But at least the lovely Illyrian was not badly hurt. It was with marked relief that he noted her throat hadn't been torn; only her flank bled, and even that showed signs of healthy clotting. Nothing a good bath and a poultice couldn't fix. For them both. His eyes were clouded with thoughts of which plants would best suit them, where to find them between here and the Summit, and again the sharp, stabbing reminders that he wasn't with his father, he wasn't where he should be——paws softer than they had any right to be touch his chin and every worry, every single thought cleared his eyes.

Quiet fire licked against gentle earth as he held her gaze, ever at her mercy by the tender touch of her paws. Home is with you, she insisted. Surely she felt the way that he melted into her palms, the increased weight of his head falling into her grasp. Isn't that how it works? You won. Her words are his favorite intoxicant and he drinks them in deeply, feels them go to his head. Greed flares up in his eyes—pure, unadulterated greed, hungry and wanting, wide and yawning. Mine, his mind's voice whispers in his ears again. My Caltáriel. His lips part, 'yes' poised eagerly on his tongue—No.

He hears the objection cut across his ready acceptance; the voice not belonging to himself, surely. But even if it is not his own voice, he hears the truth in it and submits to it. No, that's not how it works. These words he owns now, forces them from his throat as he pulls his head back, a troubled frown and furrowed brow disrupting the tranquil ecstasy that had just laid claim to his countenance. These land laws are shit, and I don't know if that's what you thought I was fighting for, but it wasn't, he continued, that frown leaning toward a pout of protest. His eyes searched hers then, looking for any sign that he had hit his mark, that she truly believed—and was warm to—the idea that he had now won possession of her. He wasn't sure which answer he wanted to find.

Despite the bruising of her ribs and the sharp pain that flittered through with every too-full breath, Caltáriel had come off blissfully unscathed. Keligan's sudden assault had happened so fast after she appeared at the challenge that she'd had no time to prepare for it, and the massiveness of his size and strength compared to her own were enough to force the Illyrian into a swift submission, no matter how much of a fight she had tried to put up. If she could have seen the troubled glint in his eyes, or been able to hear his fervent thoughts of finding herbs and taking her back and figuring everything out, she might have given him the mercy of her silence.

But as it were, they were here now; suspended like this, the world around them suddenly a blur.

There is a heat that lingers in that quiet suspension, a breadth between her question and his answer, one that seemed to drag on forever and forever and Caltáriel would have let it, if she could. The subconscious pull of his gaze once again fooled her into leaning forward, the almost instinctual inclination in his direction once again so subtle, so soft, that she scarcely even noticed it. Until—

No.

She opens her mouth to protest, but @Lucanus speaks once more. She relents the cold emptiness of her palms now that he's pulled away, and she quickly lowers them back down to the ground again, an embarrassed heat suddenly sprawling across her face. And yet, the way with which his pointed frown turns into a boyish pout, and the way his eyes meet hers once again eases the nerves that had frayed the plush fur of her nape. She eased; she took a breath. However ruffled her feathers may have been from the challenge, such adrenaline only just now beginning to seep away, to tire her greatly, Caltáriel still understood the implications of it all. What she had just put him through, what she had put herself through—surely, what she would be putting Morrigan through here upon her return to the Summit.

And maybe she had acted too bold and impish, fueled from the excitement of her own fight and the way he had come for her, the way he had won for her.

She had not made any friends today. It was a cruel reminder that Amaryllis were vastly different from the idyllic utopia of her homelands, untouched by blight and by greed.

Of course I'm going back to Illyria, she finally relented, lifting a slender brow. It's not what she wanted to say ( how delightful a story it would have been for sweet Caltáriel to have been yanked from the Summit and whisked away to some distant ever-after ). I just figured— she began, desperate to buy herself any more time, —Andal's a bit closer, and it was already a long walk from the Hollow.

And I want to see where you are, and hear your striped and speckled family's stories.

@Caltáriel responded that of course she was going back to Illyria and Lucanus nodded as if this was the correct response, but there is a hesitation, even a disappointment in his eyes as he did so. This is right. This is right, he reminded himself, a droning chant to drown out all the thoughts of how she belonged to him, how he surely had earned her after all, and all the selfish, hungry things that fought to dominate his consciousness.

But then her voice interjects into the noise between his ears, cutting clear through the din. Andal's a bit closer... He hears the creaking of the hinge on a door that refuses to shut, sees the sliver of light peeking through and lunges for it. Oh, well, you have a point there, he is too quick to agree, his countenance fighting with itself to remain neutral despite the wide, slap-happy grin that is begging to break through. He felt his lips give way into a small, pleased smile and he quickly turned his head off toward the Oasis while he worked to compose himself. I think we both could use a good rest before making our way up the Summit.

Feeling his face yield again to his control, he then turned back toward her—oh, but it was hopeless! The moment his eyes touched upon her lovely features again the mirth broke forth. Whether it was emotional release from the tense battle for her freedom, the anxiety of not knowing what was going on with his father, sheer giddiness that she seemed to want to spend more time with him, or all them combined, Lucanus burst into a sudden, singing laugh. It was a strange time to laugh, he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. Waves of relief washed over his tired, hurting body and the struggling in his mind submitted into relaxation at last. He just let himself be.

She wished there were only one right answer. And yet, she was almost certain that if she had told Morrigan she would be leaving the Summit to chase love, her cousin might have delighted in it, might have humored her.

But she still felt that strange sense of duty, that cloud lingering over her that relented at the fact she did not simply want to disappear from her pride, leave them wondering where on earth their Lead Advisor might have gone. Thus, Caltáriel had found this easy middle, this half of getting what she wanted and half of doing what was right. The sudden turn of emotions upon his expression reminds her that she had made the best decision, that this strange in-between might be enough to sate their appetites, to keep from running after each other at every turn, at stealing every fleeting moment they could have before duty and honor wrenched them away once more.

Her nervous expression falls away into a blissful, almost toothy smile as he reciprocates her excitement, and even the dragging dread of pacing through barely-navigable sands and blistering heat seems like a paradise compared to the cold loneliness of the Summit, a den that lay hollowed and empty and susceptible to the wind blowing straight through it. The sudden burst of laughter that followed his words might have frightened her at first, but the almost giddy feelings that came from their oh-so-clever plan felt just that—like a singing, bursting laughter. Thus, she joined him.

When their shared laughter finally died, and Caltáriel eased into the blissful silence that fell between them, she felt half-tempted to close that distance, to relish in how soft his mane might be, to find the scents of him hidden among that of Andal and his family. But so too is she excited about exploring his home, meeting his family, and that girlish giddiness causes her to rise to her paws and attempt to brush her nose against his rump, as if hurrying him along. Show me the way, she pleaded.

---

Exit with @Lucanus