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Black and Twisted

She could hold no more. Her jaws ached and her neck burned, she needed to get a different hold or get away and regroup. Frustrated that events would have to turn out thusly the female let go but when she went to figure out how to jerk away she felt his own maw loosen. Whatever this was, she would take it. Before he had a chance to reconsider letting her go the woman stepped away with ears still pinned, head lowered, and jaws agape should he think about stepping up to her again. She might have relented first but that didn't mean she wouldn't step up to fight him once more to prove her point.

She wouldn't be trifled with.

However, it seemed the moment had passed and whatever had peeved off the male before was long gone as he dropped down to his haunches and regarded her with an observatory look. Confused as to why the fight had been dropped so suddenly she allowed her head to raise, ears pressing forward and mouth closing slightly. His words caught her completely off-guard. Fight... good? Had this all been a test?

The blue woman snorted and shook her head, the action causing blood to splatter from her neck onto the ground which was accompanied by a wince of pain. "You fight good. Or you die." Was her simple reply. She was a woman of few words but spoke the truth when she did. In this world you learned a few tricks for fighting or you didn't... and someone better than you either killed you or ousted you from your land... where you would later die.

"Why did you attack?" A simple question. She was honestly curious as to the real reason that he lunged at her and then suddenly as quickly as it happened... he was amicable again.

308| @Khronus | notes

"I Speak!"
I Think...

Wolf by Kati H. | Textures by Javajunkie247
Table by Plymouth
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For a time, Khronus had been distracted by the simple movement of her head. A shake that on any other day would have been benign and befitting suddenly became a thing of pain — because of something he'd chosen to do.

As if in slow motion, her blood shook free, little droplets of internal fluid littering the sand in glitters of crimson. For a time he stared, watched them soak away into nothing but color. And in that moment, he grew ever more aware of his own blood, running through the fine linings of his fur and painting the beach red.

It took a great effort for the man to lift his gaze from the carnage and into the eyes of the woman he'd attacked. A single moment passed, wherein he acknowledged the damage he'd done; the pain he'd brought; the scars he'd rendered. In that span of heartbeats, it seemed as if Khronus would change. As if this one encounter would bring him to his senses and finally he'd realize just what he'd done. But the problem was, he already knew. He knew he hurt people.

And he knew he didn't care.

The woman's voice reached him then, her words simple and to the point. He couldn't help but smile, for she was right: you fight well or you die trying. From an early age, Khronus knew that mantra. Lived it. Breathed it. Let it define him more than his own expression. He'd been born a fighter and had no doubts that he'd die as one, too. But what of this woman? Did she bear the same scars? The same resentment? The same anger that often drove others to madness?

In the next moment, his brows furrowed. The answer, unfortunately, was no. If she had to question why, then she was not like him. Nothing like him. But, like him, she deserved to be tossed away. Forgotten. Worthless.

How would he know? Why? Why, it was all he knew. Khronus was much less a simple man than he was a warrior. A fighter. A machine. But how could he voice that? How to make her understand? How could he make her know that the way he acted had been a thing beaten into him for so long? That all it really was was instinct?

He knew he couldn't. His words didn't extend quite that far.

He spat, and with the motion came more of her blood, glittering oh-so-pretty in the light of evening.
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Art by Ashon!