amaryllis is a land of madness, she thinks. though their home had not been a paradisiacal wonderland ( with the threat of the rike ever looming ), it had not been so filled with other clans and prides. they press against one another, boundaries practically touching. it's no wonder they're constantly at odds. she wouldn't mind it so much but the political dancing grates on one's nerves. she is beginning to understand why hakon holds such disdain for the crown and magnus' intent to hold it. she thought, once, she might have enjoyed reigning supreme: but this strange step-by-step political game they play was utterly exhausting. it's enough for her to be gentry, to be a pride member who has to abide by rules and alliances and do her best not to insult the tenderfooted greenlanders. to be a leader and make the alliances and play the game at such a high level? unthinkable.

she takes to the wilds more and more these days, exploring and searching and meeting. learning. having relationships with the others in the land was not a bad thing, she reflects, for allies in every reach of the country could be beneficial. acting as saga and not a member of magnus council was so much easier ( and, truly, more fun ). she oft wonders how long she'll remain at her brother's side. life as a rogue seems that much more pleasant. but there's so many expectations and obligations placed over her that she doesn't know how she could - and would he see it as a slight, to leave?

shaking her head, she focuses instead on the tunnels. while she's still not warmed to her underground home, these caverns are much more inviting. high tide has filled them with ankle-deep seawater and the small waves crash gently against the stone. it echoes around her and she gets the distinct feeling of being surrounded by the sea: of home. it eases the tension from her body, unknotting the muscles in her back and neck, and though it stings the fresh wounds scattered across her chimeric form that she's gotten from practice spars in the pit, it's easy to ignore. easy to put the center of her attention at the seal pup she's clasped in her jaws. she picks her way through the tunnels, gaze trailing across the features until she comes to a stone that juts out over a deeper part of the sea. patiently, she leaps onto the boulder and bows her head, eyes closed. a quick prayer to vellen, silent but devout, and she thrusts the pup into the deeper part of the tide where it quickly steals the corpse and moves it deeper into the sea. "fyrir þig, herra" she whispers softly, settling onto her stomach and draping her forepaws in the cool water below.

@Hákon

table by ferus & lineart by eerien00dle

he did not mind these tunnels.

there was still a ceiling and four walls, true, but the smell of salt permeated still. water flooded them more often than not, rolling in with the tide and out again as the sea dictated. today that same water sloshes at his ankles until his toes are soaked through. it doesn't stop him though and for now, he doesn't even miss the sunshine. he especially doesn't miss it when he catches wind of her.

at first he has a thought to turn around and leave, lest she think him to be dogging her steps like some sort of pathetic puppy. but he'd come this far in the tunnels and didn't enjoy the idea of running, no matter how his chest churned at the mere idea of her. and so he keeps his course, something burning close to excitement in his steps as he slinks down the unfamiliar corridors and twisting turns.

this place, at least, is not as serpentine as obsidian had been. it might be a cavern system but it lacks the confusing frame of the labyrinth; he does not need any red thread here. the closer he gets the more prominent @Saga's scent is, and so is the underlying copper of blood. ears twist forward at that, considering, as the floor below him rolls down deeper. the water gets deeper and -- there she is.

just up ahead, perched up atop a stone like a gargoyle. like a queen. jaws part as he rumbles out a chuff during his approach, offering her a half-cocked smirk as he draws closer still. are you lost, sigrun? he needles, though his tone lacks its usual bite today. instead, he is... joking? or at least, trying to. or have the hollows flooded? he raises a paw then to flex his toes, bringing attention to the sea water that lingers on the floor here. maybe he wouldn't be so against the idea of obsidian if these tunnels were part of its system.

CODE BY LARS

the water swirls around her ankles where they dip into the sea, cold but hardly so frigid as vellen's true sea. today, she doesn't hear his approach; the sound of his steps through the brine is swallowed entirely by the soft lull of the tides and her ears are cupped and turned out to the depths. so when he chuffs, surprise registers. it's only expressed in the widening of her eyes, the arching of a brow over pale eyes that turn to the tunnels he's slouched from. her body shifts, hip rolling beneath her, so that she can remain on the boulder but still face him. her left paw pulls from the water, resting out in front of her, while the right still dangles.

her eyes slit, one side of her mouth quirking in a vague smile. "i think perhaps you are the one lost." she corrects, tilting her jaw and letting her eyes rove the caverns around them. the silence after her words are punctuated by the shhh, shhh lullaby of the ocean. her paw lifts from the water and she flicks the brine from it in his direction, half-hearted. "or were you planning on drowning a third time?" and it's less of a question, equally a taunt as his initial greeting, though there's an unspoken promise in her eyes as she peers at him: i could help with that. it's scarcely a threat: he should recognize it for what it is, but he has been spending quite a bit of time in these greenlands. perhaps he's gotten their tenderfooted spirit, too.

and then, of course, back to the hollows. it seems a sore spot with him and she snorts, rolling her eyes. "just say you miss them and come home." saga dares, lifting a paw again to unsheathe her claws and inspect them, carefully nibbling a bit of the seal pup's fur out from between them. "you're playing a game of he doth protest too much, hakon." her eyes lift from her paw to settle, firmly,l on him once more and she lays her foot down. and, here, a bit of bitterness rises as she recalls the battle for the scillian throne. "besides," she keeps her eyes pointedly everywhere but his, tone that infuriating neutrality she wields like a shield. "i'm sure brigid misses you." words meant to cut deep.

@Hákon

table by ferus & lineart by eerien00dle

his almost-joke falls flat and he snorts, not bothered one bit. he was no true comedian and he's happy to let it lie. even her almost-threat does little to stir the man — instead, he arches a brow. bold words for the sigrun: for all she knew, his clan did their drownings different. though, of course... he wasn't sure what she knew. of them, of him. since their first meeting, he'd been wracking his brain ( though he'd never admit to it ) to try and remember @Saga from the homeland. they must have met there, if she knew his name before he'd ever even thought to give it. yet he draws nothing but frustrating blanks, and it annoys him more than it should.

it annoys him more than he'd expected.

as they speak of the hollows, he frowns — despite the fact that he'd been the one to bring it up. even if she's right. you think so? he asks, voice light — but clearly tetchy. you would like that, i'm sure. it must get so boring there, with only cranky old magnus for company. he says, the corner of his mouth lilting up. there were others, of course — her family and blood, closer than he'd ever even guess. another thing he doesn't know, another piece of the puzzle he's missing.

as she continues, though, his expression loses that edge of humor, of biting mirth, swapping it out for something more pinched. there's something in her tone that sets his teeth on edge. that, paired with the way she will not look at him, causes the skagos punk to drawl a step closer with an easy, feral grace. a predator sinking closer with clear intentions to strike. if you have something to say, he says, not quite bristling but certainly close to it. it was clear she'd hit a sore spot ( as brigid often was, especially now ), and hakon isn't quite collected enough to keep it hidden. it's easier to spit and lash out than play polite. then please, by all means. a paw raises out of the brine to gesture towards her, fingers spreading to hand her the floor.

after all, she seems to have such a read on him.

CODE BY LARS

( you got teeth like razorblades and you know that we're out for blood ) she eyes the sea almost warily, still avoiding the sight of him, only scoffing when he finally speaks: you'd like that. for a moment, there's a flutter in her chest like she's a yearling again - did he know? - but as he continues in his sarcastic, taunting way she can relax ( regret ), knowing it was a jab. "and adding cranky young you would lighten the mood so very much?" saga questions him, matching his arched brow with her own as she finally settles her gaze back on the skagos. though the two seem very much like frenemies, she's well aware that they are more in common than hákon may like to admit.

ah, but she's hit a nerve.
finally.

his expression tightens the moment she mentions brigid and he slithers closer. her own gaze narrows and she rolls her hips back beneath her, thrusting herself up onto all fours where she still remains on the boulder. though this display might have coaxed an equally aggressive reaction were it anyone else, she plays dangerous with hákon. his paw spreads, dripping saltwater in a steady, soft rhythm, and she stares at it. the sound of the drip matches her heartbeat and for half a moment, she wants to hurt him - but, instead, she clings to that ice queen demeanor and plays at ignorance. "only that beloved should be together, of course." it's all soothing words, but there's something lurking behind her deadly calm gaze, the sea monster beneath the waves.

"þar til dauðinn gerir þig í sundur, and all that." she adds, sitting primly atop the boulder and peering down at him. all innocence and sweetness.

@Hákon

table by ferus & lineart by eerien00dle

it takes her a bit but she finally turns her head, split muzzle turning his way with a blasé look and an arched brow. that much was expected, but there’s still a strange simmer in his chest when their eyes meet. something electric that races along his frame, pulling the thick fur along his spine to rise. he might’ve sniped back at her careless jab if not for that very feeling — and, of course, what comes next.

beloved. despite the anger in his breast he snorts, the sound harsh against the lulling water. whatever his feelings towards brigid ( whatever they were, whatever those might have been ), he dislikes… this. his connection to her wasn’t something to poke or prod at, or to be thrown in his face. there’s a sense of helplessness there ( and even admitting that to himself is an impossible thing ) and yet, @Saga manages to dig her thumb in just so.

maybe i should be flattered, he sneers, sea foam eyes never leaving hers even as she lifts up from her stony perch — sitting now, instead of laying. still just out of reach, still his sole focus. that you've given our relationship so much consideration. hákon surely hasn't ( and it shows ) but it's one thing for him to bristle at his betrothal and certainly another for saga to do so. and what of you? he says, ears angling forward at the sound of their shared language. don’t tell me that you have a husband sitting at home. if he knew her history he might not tread on this subject so casually, but hákon is as oblivious as he is angry.

CODE BY LARS

his words bring forth a hearty laugh and she swipes a tongue across her lips. "oh, hákon," she drawls, rising to her feet and stepping slowly one foot forward. she leans forward and leers down to where he waits, still staring at her. unmoving. focused. she might have been pleased, any other day, but she's feeling particularly malevolent today. "everyone has been keeping tabs." saga promises, lips twisting into a deep frown. "you both flaunt your issues so freely before the clan." disapproval, then: but why? for the tastelessness of it, she pretends. as if she is insulted they are not quiet about it. she truly cares little for that. vellen knows she has aired her own dirty laundry before them all ( and, recently, with the snarling and posturing at ulla ). she knows why she bristles at the sight of them and perhaps he ( and even brigid, herself, though it's easier to hide beneath the gaze of a blind woman ) does, too.

when he turns the tables, she goes still.

her muscles tighten and her expression drains of all emotion, both unpleasant and taunting.

she swallows thickly and she narrows her gaze, taking another step forward before dropping with an echoing splash in the ankle-deep water. "he sits with vellen," she tells him carefully. her voice is cold, expression a perfect slate of neutrality, but her eyes are like ice chips. "were he here, he certainly wouldn't be sitting at home while i ran amok." it's a challenge and an insult wrapped in one. she dearly loved áki, both her husband and the son she named him for. perhaps had she not cared for her lost love so, she wouldn't be so triggered by hákon. but perhaps he is the trigger and not his words. that seems more likely but harder to admit.

@Hákon

ART BY BUNNY, CODE BY LARS

she laughs.

the sound is hollow against the cerulean walls, the shallow seawater helping to dampen the sound, but he hears it loud and clear. and — that’s the point. teeth grind together as his jaw clenches, a severe frown slanting his mouth. everyone has been keeping tabs, saga continues, and though a part of him knew this, it’s still upsetting to hear. to have his nose rubbed so thoroughly in it. claws unsheathe beneath the water, digging into stone and soil as he tries ( and fails ) to keep the displeasure from his face, from the line of his shoulders. he did not ask to be shipped off with this clan, to marry a widow who’d floundered her drowning. he had nothing to offer her, and she had nothing to offer him, yet somewhere ofelía was delighted with her son’s displeasure.

and here, too, @Saga reveled in it.

( that hurts, more than you expected it to. )

she rises stonily from her perch, finally joining him on solid ground — the water sloshes up and dampens the thick fur along his legs as she disturbs it. hákon feels a belated beat of surprise at her words — she did have a husband, but he died; hákon hadn’t expected to be even half-right. if he had, he might not have said it so casually. still, another man — a smarter man — might have given pause at the way she stills so suddenly as the topic comes up. at the way her spine straightens, warm brown eyes gone dark and fathomless as the sea that brushes against their ankles. but hákon, despite his age, does not see the warning signs for what they might be. a shame, then, he says, straightening his spine as he speaks. that he was not here to see you challenge your jarl. what was that about flaunting their issues?

CODE BY LARS

she's always boasted control and composure, being able to hold herself together while others rant and rave. but this? this man, here and now? infuriates her. he knows exactly where to insert the knife and how hard to twist to make it hurt the worst. they don't know much about one another, it's true, but they seem to know perfectly enough to wound one another. she doesn't feel the seawater at her ankles, no longer smells the brine and vague sea rot.

...to challenge your jarl.

there's a dull roaring in her ears and she thinks, perhaps, it is vellen's garbled urging.

shame...that he was not here....

her tail lashes at her hips.

"hún er ekki meira jarlinn minn en þinn, bastarinn þinn." it comes out rigidly calm, almost nonchalant. "ég ætti að rífa tunguna úr munni þínum." saga continues, head canted slightly to one side to regard him hawkishly. her pupils have widened the black swallowing her brown iris, and she suddenly surges forward.

her claws unsheathe as she splashes through the seawater, head lowering and haunches bunching as she shoves off, intending to sail through to air and slam straight into him. her claws try to sink into his shoulders and her open jaws seek to gain purchase on the left side of his face.

saga v @Hákon
for dominance
i of iii
hits

Rolling 6d20: 19 + 4 + 9 + 16 + 6 + 12

dodges

Rolling 5d20: 5 + 17 + 13 + 4 + 10

table by ferus & lineart by eerien00dle

there’s an itch under his skin, something primal and alive; he cannot tell if he likes it or not, but he thinks he craves it. her features remain eerily passive and still and that, more than anything, seems to bother him — he bristles and hunches at the slightest word yet all saga does is frown. she’s no more my jarl than yours, you bastard. even her voice as she spits this and more, her voice is solid and even. and even as she rises to lunge forward, furious, he still doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing what lies beneath.

and that, more than anything else, infuriates him.

( if she was going to make him feel like this, then least she could do is feel it, too. )

the space between them is meager, the ceiling seemingly pressing low — the enclosed space seems to amplify the sound of her hurtling forward and the sea giving way. it means that he does not have much room to shrug off her onslaught as she comes forward like a freight train. all he can manage to do is take a step backwards and try to brace before she slams into him. a snarl rises in his chest as pain blossoms from the point of connection — barrel chest sucking in a deep inhale, trying to make up for the breath she’s knocked from it.

shoulders rise, reaching up towards his ears, but it does little to hamper her attempt to dig her claws into his lightened fur. her jaws, too, slide across the left-portion of his face, fangs drawing blood across his cheekbone and up to the bridge of his nose. lacing his ears to his skull, hákon seeks to slam his muzzle forward — attempting to head butt her, his forehead to hers. with the same fluid motion he seeks to step forward — hoping to use his marginally larger bulk to move her backwards and gain some space.

hákon vs @Saga
for dominance
1 / 3

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 9 + 6 + 18 + 12 + 2 + 10 + 20

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 4 + 7 + 15 + 16

CODE BY LARS