there's a telling itch when she awakes - one that she, as a seasoned woman, knows all too well. it's been building to the point of madness, turning her typical neutrality to something sharper, angrier. so she takes to the tundra, spilling herself out of the hollows and making for the farthest reaches. away from the tunnels, where her pride lingers, and the sea where he surely does. the frigid bite of the northernlands are so reminiscent of home that when she makes the hike, saga feels as though she can breathe better here. the air may be thinner, but the scents are familiar and they wrap themselves around her shoulders like a shawl. she snuggles into it, heavy a sharp sigh. steam expels from her mouth, hanging in front of her face in a small, foggy cloud. the chimeric woman shivers, though not of the cold, and glances over her shoulder to peer at the distant horizon where she knows the hollows are. would magnus - ragna, svana, even nadia? - notice her days-long absence? wonder where she was? she imagines some of the older sigruns may know why she avoids others for a few days a few times a year; her daughter, though, might think it exceptionally strange. she's young enough to not have experienced the desire and how hard one fights against it. now is not the time for cubs and she's still mourning the loss of her husband, her son and pining after a man she will likely never get.

@Seneca

ART BY BUNNY, CODE BY LARS

Seneca, on the other paw, is not avoiding anyone or anything. He doubts his pride even notices his absence, for it isn't unlike him to venture off in search of a never-ending wealth of knowledge about this place. He'd spent the night in the frigid caverns, and woke with the dawn, curious to see what he will find today that will interest him. Most days, he finds something -- or someone -- new to entertain him, and he imagines that this day will be no different.

There is a cold and biting wind that ruffles his mane, though his bulk protects him from it for the most part. It comes with something else, though -- a most peculiar scent, that is nearly impossible for a male to ignore. His nostrils flare, a low snort rumbling from the Miroslav and he soon changes direction, seeking out the potential for company.

One could paint him a villain for looking to take advantage of the hormonal state of a lioness, but truthfully, it's simply instinctual. A response that he has little control over, his footsteps crunching on ice as curiosity promises to kill the cat. Sooner or later, he will find the stranger in the snowdrifts, and he ignores the voice in the back of his head that tells him she may not welcome his company.

@Saga

image by koafox, code by koi

she's perched on the cusp of the rolling hillsides, snow covering her paws, and the half-dead grass covering the landscape ahead of her. she's avoided the tunnels, having had quite enough of that at home ( and with her last visit with hakon ) and instead wants the open sky above, the endless tundra ahead. the downside? it makes her terribly easy to find. an ear twists atop her whitegray skull at the sound of the pawsteps. internally, her heart leaps and hormones bid her to turn and face the potential; but she steels herself, clinging to that control, and closes her eyes. for a moment she remains, breathing in and out and doing her best to ignore the male and hope, somehow, that he'll pass her by.

but that's a foolish notion; even the strongest of them are oft slaves to hormones.

finally, swallowing the bit of her that is eager at company, saga shifts so she can sling her head over her own shoulder and peer back at him. her head tilts minutely as she takes in the sight of him. something about him is familiar and her brows furrow as she struggles to get her mind to work long enough for her to remember. her tail tip twitches at her heels and it finally comes to here: she's seen him a handful of times at the challenges that have held amaryllis captive in recent weeks. the scent of wolfbron wafts to her and this, at least, soothes some tension from her. she need not battle an enemy or enemy pride while fighting herself, too.

for a moment she merely watches, gaze hawkish, as she swallows past the inviting purr that wants to roll from her throat. "you're from wolfbron," she finally manages, voice gruff, as if she's not spoken for weeks. a lip curls, briefly, in distaste and she clears her throat, pivoting to shift her hips so she can face him head on and perhaps try to make this an, ah, typical meeting.

@Seneca

ART BY BUNNY, CODE BY LARS

Some time passes before he finds her, a tapestry of greys decorating her coat in a subtle but unique manner. He doubts that she is unaware of her surroundings, and her stillness as he nears is enough to suggest that she knows he is here. Seneca pauses, not such a rude creature as to encroach on her space so soon, but he has to admit (if only to himself) -- he wants to. His tail flickers in mild agitation against his ankles as first only her head turns, meeting his gaze with a cautious eye.

She pinpoints his origin, and through the feminine perfume, he is able to pick up the faint scent of the Hollows upon her pelt. "Yes," he confirms, twisting one ear towards her and idly wondering if she has more to say than that. She finally turns the rest of the way to face him, prompting a slight tilt of his skull. "Avoiding someone?" he queries with an arch of his brow. He's hardly an idiot, and he doubts that she is so far from home in her state without purpose. While he can only guess at her reasons for avoiding her pride rather than remain within the assumed safety of its walls, it certainly begs the question of what exactly she is hiding from.

@Saga

image by koafox, code by koi

he's equally as measured as she, though saga imagines he's as affected by this as she is. she appreciates that at least. a gentleman is merely a patient wolf, she knows, but a patient wolf is better than a hunting one. her eyes narrow as he casually questions what she's doing up in the tundra, hitting the peg square on the head without any guesswork necessary. it would take a truly dense creature to get that wrong, however. a lip twitches at his statement, curling up in bitter amusement. "of course not," she drawls, swinging her head at the empty landscape beyond her. "i'm here for the party." it's delivered deadpan, with no inflection either way. she forgets, sometimes, that there are those not accustomed to her sardonic humor - but something tells her that he'll be able to keep up without much complaint.

her muscles along her back twitch and she shakes it off, forcing her attention to remain at the forefront of her mind. "let me guess, you're here for the view?" this has a bit more of a bite, and she flashes her fangs in a threatening manner. she's had to fight off would-be bed warmers before and she'll happily do it again, no matter what her instincts want her to do. her claws unsheathe and she sinks them into the snow to press against the frozen ground beneath.

@Seneca

ART BY BUNNY, CODE BY LARS

The curl of her lip is unmistakable, implying that he is very much correct, but she grants him a sardonic answer instead. It prompts something of a chortle from the man, a mere ghost of a laugh, but there for a moment all the same. "Of course, how could I have missed it?" he returns, his eyes following the sweeping gesture of her muzzle to take in the eerie quiet of the landscape.

She's avoiding the elephant in the room, but he supposes he can't blame her. Biology makes demands when the mind disagrees, though he is hardly opposed to the idea of allowing instincts to overwhelm him. Still, he maintains his reserved status; this is not the sort of thing Seneca takes if it does not belong to him, much as he may wish to.

"Something like that," he answers ambiguously, his gaze returning to meet hers. She doesn't seem the foolish sort to lack the recognition that she is the view in this particular moment, and whilst her pheromones beg him closer, closer, her bared teeth warn him to hold his position. And so he does, stilled before her aside from the agitated flicking of his tail tip, betraying his otherwise calm exterior. Beneath the façade, he is chomping at the bit.

@Saga

image by koafox, code by koi

he doesn't press closer and she lifts her head, then, mildly surprised. it shows in the lifting of her brows, the suspicious narrowing of her gaze. she's had to battle off the suitors before, so few had respected her warnings. it's...intriguing. her tail flickers behind her and she leans forward despite herself, ears twitching atop her head. "you surprise me." she admits, finally, lifting herself out of her crouched, defensive stance and instead letting her critical gaze sweep him up and down. the reason they're both here is obvious and there's no reason to keep tiptoeing around it - saga doesn't think she's going to get out of this without her wanton desires taking control. the least she could do is prove to herself that he's worth it. if she was going to throw sensibility to the wind, tonight, she wants him to at least prove strong enough. she has no illusions that there will be anything beyond the evening with him, and a large part of her is not even keen on this, but even a single night with saga? has to be won.

"impress me, instead." she challenges, cocking her head to one side and flexing her claws again in the snow. she hunkers down, stretching her shoulder and allowing her head to sink low to protect her throat. her fur ruffles, standing straight along her spine as her muscles twitch and jump beneath it, wanting an entirely different kind of contact than she's trying to initiate right now.

@Seneca

table by ferus & lineart by eerien00dle

Her admittance draws the perk of his ears, idly curious about her unique nature. She adjusts from her defensive posture, and his gaze quietly watches on, wondering what she makes of him. Seneca's motives are not often easy to decipher, the cool guise of his face betraying little, especially when he is making an effort to control himself. Impress me instead. A quirk arches his brow in response, taking note of her readying posture and challenging tone. A slow, bemused smirk unfurls across his lips, his eyes glinting both in mirth and approval.

"Very well," he agrees with a low rumble, his tail flicking before he is lunging in the snow towards her, a veritable powerhouse of muscle and prowess. His ears slap against his skull, his chin dropping down as he closes the distance between them. Seneca attempts to ram the brunt of his his left shoulder into the hollow of her chest where it connects with the front of her left shoulder. His broad skull swings to the left as well, snapping teeth attempting to obtain a grip at the midpoint of the left side of her neck.

seneca vs saga for spar
move one of three

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 16 + 8 + 4 + 18 + 12 + 13 + 7

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 20 + 11 + 2 + 4

note: seneca has +1 hit die due to wolfbron bluffs pride tier 4

image by koafox, code by koi

he pauses only to agree before exploding towards her. startled in her haze of wants and emotions, despite being the one to antagonize him into it, saga steps back with one hind leg and hunkers down, ears flattening to her skull and eyes narrowing as she braces for impact. the impact of his shoulder into her chest is a move that's been used on her time and time again, and the bruise throbs, deepening at the repeated attacks. she grunts, stepping back another pawstep to lessen the painful crush of their bodies together, just as he swings his jaws up to seek her neck. it's higher than he initially intends, closer to the where the end of her left jawbone begins to curve up towards her ear. the pain of his fangs is intense, immediate, and it shakes her from her fog. briefly.

saga thrusts her left forepaw out and up, aiming to try and tear it across the flat of his skull near where seneca grapples with his hold on her neck. the position is awkward and she's not sure on the likeliness of the attack landing. he has her in a precarious position, however, unable to reach his body with her own fangs when his hold her so still. irritation burns in her throat as she lashes her tail, hoping to help it keep her balance.

saga v @Seneca
for dominance
i of iii
hits

Rolling 6d20: 6 + 10 + 7 + 8 + 3 + 19

dodges

Rolling 5d20: 7 + 10 + 20 + 8 + 16

table by ferus & lineart by eerien00dle

Whilst his teeth do not land exactly where he had expected, they do still sink into flesh, grappling at her jawline and snapping shut with a firm hold. Seneca attempts to take immediate advantage of his position, trying to shove forcefully against her neck in a downward motion. His hope is to push her down into the snow, to force her submission -- if she wants to be impressed, he is hardly going to go easy on her. Meanwhile, Saga's claws find purchase at the back of his skull, wrenching past his right ear and down into the thick of his mane, which quickly grows sticky with the blood that seeps down from the fresh cuts.

seneca vs saga for spar
move two of three

Hits:

Rolling 7d20: 19 + 2 + 10 + 9 + 13 + 15 + 6

Dodges:

Rolling 4d20: 16 + 11 + 10 + 5

note: seneca has +1 hit die due to wolfbron bluffs pride tier 4

image by koafox, code by koi