Let the Beat Build, Bitch [thistle]

[Makarov]

[atrb=border,0,true][cs=7][bg=000000] There was a less then gentle stirring as Twilight Heaven awoke from her sleep with a general start. Somewhere out there an owl hooted, punctuating the night and helping the drowsy female to realize just how long she had slept in for. The drowsy sun-light hours were for the prey-beasts, the most acceptable times for the hunt. But night was the time of the wolf though. It invigorated her in ways she could only ever imagine in her wildest dreams, for it was the natural way of her kind. The moon was high above her, hanging in the sky like a solemn badge of honor pinned against the royal navy velvet of some sort of neat and noble warrior's wear. The stars struck the winter night's sky like pinpricks through a vast and dark sheet hung over some extravagant light source: the sun, or a high wattage light bulb. Twilight Heaven lifted her muzzle from her crossed forepaws.She smacked her lips together gently, trying to restore a bit of the moisture in her mouth which was impeccably dry. Eyes blinked blearily, adjusting to her night-time surroundings with the ease of a predator. How she had slept in so late she did not know, but she was willing to guess it had to do with the quiet comfort of the Rogue Lands. There had been little confrontation from the enemy lines in these most recent of times, which allowed for the lack of fear and cautiousness when it came to the exploration of these territories. Always were the soldiers instructed to recruit whomever they could, and kill those they could not. Twilight Heaven tended to act differently then what her father generally demanded and expected of her, and that was all fine to the female. She rose with a broad stretch, moving about every muscle in her body and yawning fitfully to expose her powerful jaws. Claws protruded from her pointing toes. It was the usual patrol. Filled with boredom she had found a place to rest and slept well into the night. Never had it been her intention, yet she found herself feeling rather invigorated after the whole experience. Twilight Heaven began to move about the area at a slow pace, leaving scent markings here and there to enforce the general presence of The Order. Not for them, more for herself. The snow-white female, cursed with the crimson eyes of a demon, knew that such an act would surely piss someone off and that was her simple but ultimate aim. What her father's regime gave her most was the ability to play with her passions and pursue her addictions with little thought of the consequence. Yet she knew what would be equalled out in her actions, the darkness of it all, and chose to be apart of it. The trees moved so slowly around her. They were forms without shape, shadows in the dark, yet they made up the backdrop of the slow hunt which she had been conducting. In the laziness of her former sleep-stupored state she was now merely meandering. But there were other creatures afoot. Twilight could here their pawsteps in the darkness, strange movements in the background crunching in the light crust of snow that had settled over most things. It punctuated the otherwise rather silent backdrop, causing her ears to jump here and there. This was the time of the wolf though. She tried to remind herself of this as she passed through the forest wasteland of snow. She would be ready, as always. ooc;; Sorry about the shitty post

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[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] Idris verch Rhonwen had been restless all that long day. She had prowled during the daylight hours, writing it off as patrolling, easing her nerves by telling herself that she was doing her duty. In the late afternoon, she had finally retired and tried to force herself to sleep. It was a pointless effort. As the sun sank early into the winter sky, Idris twitched, rolled, and shifted in the somewhat chilly makeshift den she'd chosen for that night. When distant from the Warriors pack lands, and from the fields she had so long considered her home, she had taken to occupying whatever cave or pocket of air within the earth she could find. Often this meant a sudden encounter with a badger--which she had left alone--or, on one memorable occasion, a pit viper, which she had dispatched after a tense stand off and quick, risky fight. Tonight had presented no such difficulties, probably because the den itself was drafty and damp, but a presentiment of danger or conflict still seemed to sit heavy in the air. As the sky turned blue, bluer, black, blackest, dark of night, Idris occasionally felt sleep approaching, with tentative footsteps. But every time, it seemed to sense her waiting for it, and would skitter away again, leaving her with a quick shiver that traveled over her body and made her eyes flick open. Finally, with a low growl, she launched herself from the musty place, a barreling vision of terror bursting from the heart of the earth to any creatures there to observe. An owl seemed to be her only waking companion in these dense woods, however; it gave a rhythmic chorus of hoots ("who calls for youuuuuu") before gliding away on purely silent wings. The creatures of the day had long since gone to nest and burrow. The light layer of snow on the ground before her was largely clear and smooth, the little marks of a fox barely visible before her. Idris felt the poor, tattered remnants of her half-sleep drift away from her eyes in the sharp cold. She looked up, spying the moon through the treetops, and felt a small burst of energy as she did. Head back down to the scene before her, she began an easy trot, strong legs propelling her body forward in a smooth and easy motion. That motion slowed, then stopped abruptly. Nostrils flared, then shrank, eyes squinted to slits in her tawny-chestnut mask. The scent of another wolf was strong, far too strong to be accidental. It assaulted her from the base of a tree, strong, almost acidic in its pungency, and distinctly female. Idris approached, and quite easily found the large paw prints in the snow nearby--perfect tracking weather, with snow to leave imprints in, but no falling snow to cover them after. Idris made a sound similar to the rumbling she'd made as she emerged from the den. This was not right. These were rogue lands. No rogue in their right mind would attract attention this way, and the Warriors were not marking territory. The knowledge that this must be an Order wolf sank onto her heavily, but just as swiftly seemed to change into a hot electric energy. This was what she was here for. The red feather of Captain, newly tucked and matted into her fur where not long ago the familiar green had hung, flickered and fluttered, filling her with a sense of purpose. Her pads tingled. She began to run. It was an easy lope more than an all-out dash; she still needed to make sure she was on the track, and she didn't care to arrive out of breath. The track was easy to follow, as it turned out, and her energy built with every new marking and blatantly nonchalant footprint. Whoever this wolf was, she was brassy, that was certain. The night rushed and folded around her, and it seemed barely moments before she could make out the shape in the darkness, strolling through the snow her pelt matched so well. Idris did not bother to make a quiet approach--this wolf clearly expected company. A few more heavy strides carried her nearly abreast of the fae, though with distance between their bodies. Her momentum rolled to a stop as she braced into the snow with her forelegs, feeling the pressure of the earth all the way up into her deep, broad chest. Idris took a moment to survey the other she-wolf. They looked like the dark and light sides of the moon in the light of the stars, their frames matching in bulk and height. In the night, Idris's mahogany pelt appeared nearly black, and the wolf before her was a pure, creamy white, though Idris had the feeling she was dark beneath the pelt. In another wolf, the words that came out would have been icy in their authoritative chill, but Idris did not have ice in her soul. "Ardent lord," her father had named her, despite her mother's protests, and she lived it, truly. The words, instead, were heavy and tight with tension and power, words like evenly glowing coals, a smoldering trunk in a charred forest. "State your name."

[Makarov]

[atrb=border,0,true][cs=7][bg=000000] The scent markers, the paw prints, they were all warning flags to any creature who dare stepped across her path, and in normal occasions, such a trivial claiming of an area would have easily scared off most competition. Such was not the way of a wolves whom her mother commanded though. They were taught and determined. In fact they reminded the icy-clad queen of the imps that the ones they called their enemy were not much different from themselves. They all worked under the same principles, even if Twilight Heaven considered herself her own wolf she still wore her scar with a mild pragmatism, priding her father's organization for it's ability to allow every wolf in it's ranks to pursue their deepest desires of the heart. So she should have guessed, should have known that as soon as she had left her place of rest that she would become the subject to a nosey little tracking game, and that she would not be alone for very long. How right she was, and Twilight was good to rely heavily on his instincts; the slight bristle of fur along her neck and the twitch of her muzzle which spoke of a certain unease working its way through her body. The muted crackle of paws in the snow, large paws, somewhere off just behind her and then the rush of sounds growing closer and closer. Ahh, at last, some company. Almost uncaringly, she peered over her shoulder, raising one brow as a large female who surprisingly evenly matched out to even her own standards, peeled herself from the darkness as if she had been a part of it all a long. It was very much like herself, who seemed no more then an extension of the snow, rising up from the white on long, elegant but unmistakably powerful limbs. A glow of pink prodded out from her coal-black lips and slipped across them. Twilight Heaven seemed to be thinking, calculating behind those ruby-dipped and obscenely sexual eyes. And though thought was not one of her stronger assets - where she mainly relied on her instinct as a major crutch for things - there was something working overtime behind those orbs as Idris stomped up just ahead of her, turning to face her with intensity in both her gaze and her voice. The feather behind her ear was worth a thousand words, as was the scar emblazoned upon her own chest. So here was a Warrior in her face, and when she spoke, it was a command. Not a suggestion, but a surefire command. "State your name." A whooping gale of laughter exited Twilight Heaven's throat, almost immediately cutting off the demands made by the she-wolf in front of her. She knew who she thought she was, but if she imagined her pseudo-power extended anywhere into the reverence of mind of a wolf of The Order then she was sorely mistaken. Twi laughed long and hard, completely disregarding the authoritative stance taken up by the creature confronting her at the moment. "Ahaha, oh ho ho one sec... AHAHA that's rich!" Deciding that she had pushed her boundaries as far as they would go she wiped a fake tear from her eyes, raising her head and showing off the glittering rows of solid white fangs clenched within her powerful jaws in a slightly sadistic smile. She looked Idris up and down a couple times, half with the vigor of a soldier and half with a casualness to it that almost spoke of "checking one out." She was no male, but her form was strong and pleasing, and Twilight had never been a creature to be too picky. That was not the point though, that's not what they were here for and the Spetsnaz knew that the red-feathered Captain in front of her would not be all too amused with her antics. In fact she braced herself for a hasty attack if it came to that as well. Twi narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, her breathing more calm now. "Please, I insist, after you," she rumbled in a teasing snarl.

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[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] The large white she-wolf turned to face her, and Idris noticed two things simultaneously: the scar on her chest, and her eyes. The scar spoke for itself, confirming both her fears and, if she admitted it to herself, her hopes: this wolf was Order, as sure as could be. Her eyes sent a much more complex message. Wintersleep had one eye like that, or similar, that same, unnatural red. An idea, a connection, began forming in Idris's mind... But these were somehow different. Paired with the demonic fury that lurked and flickered in them was something lewd, something twisted, deviant, and disturbingly sensual. Idris recognized it, and felt a jerk of nausea in the pit of her stomach, along with an increase in her heart rate. She twitched the side of her lips up into a threatening sneer as the white femme began laughing hysterically. "Ahaha, oh ho ho one sec... AHAHA that's rich!" "Glad I could give you the giggles," Idris said, in a dry but still menacing tone. Her own eyes flashed above her display of fangs, not red, but a deep orange, seemingly lit from within with the colors of a lightning-struck tree in its dying embers. The two both had fire in their souls. The other femme spent a long, gliding moment taking Idris's measure, and Idris took that moment to do the same. They were, in fact, almost perfectly of a size, as she'd first guessed, and as she knew of only one other female who could match her in size, that inkling of connection flashed again in Idris's mind. Those disturbing eyes were set in quite a pretty face with quite a pretty pelt, though both were marred by the vicious, black-gummed smile. "Please, I insist, after you," she rasped out. Idris snorted and tossed her head. "Ladies first, then," she responded, with equal sarcasm, as the hulking mantle of fur she called her ruff began to bristle, showing the lighter chestnut fur beneath it. As always when she stated her full name, her intonation became louder, grander, more rhythmic. Let the white bitch laugh, if she wanted. Idris carried her traditions, her identity, her past, proudly, and if the Order wolves of her past hadn't changed that, this one wouldn't either. "Idris verch Rhonwen, by Yorath," she began, "Captain of the Realm of Warriors." She stepped more fully from the trees, into the previously unmarked snow ahead of where the stranger stood. She didn't intend to skulk off into their shadows any time soon. One by one, large, heavy paws took their places squarely beneath her frame, crunching in the snow and cold-hardened earth. "And you're Order. Care to explain why you were staking out rogue territory? Or were you just having a solo pissing contest?"

[Makarov]

[atrb=border,0,true][cs=7][bg=000000] There was a look of long hardened bitterness inside of those eyes, peeling and prying into Twilight with very little mercy. Not that she could have ever asked to be given such a luxury, as she obviously would not have allowed Idris the same. Their own gazes met like twin infernos, each powered by their own solitary and quite powerful inner sources, that driving burn smoldering forever and ever. The other seemed to take a quirked pity on her as she had laughed, stopping and waiting dejectedly as the ivory demoness shook out all the jollies, simply making the other female wait. It was all in the power, the power to conduct a situation to your likings, even if it was by some absurdly childish method. Still she had gotten what she had sought out, a momentary pause into which she could attempt to inject herself. Twilight was readying herself for anything and everything that might happen. This one, well, let's just say she did not look all too tickled by the circumstances, nor by the idea of having to subdue herself whilst the other openly mocked her. Her own lips entered a sneer, though it was no where near as cynically seductive as the temptress' own. In fact it seemed rather ugly, quirked and forced, biting back at the more obvious underlying emotions of sheer fury to Twi's brazen impudence. The dark-hued female had said something while she laughed, but the white wolf took no note of it. It would not be important afterall - perhaps some obscene mutterings under her breath, or even a jest or jibe of her own. Either way, this bitch did not seem like the type to joke around, in fact she seemed to have no tangible sense of humor at all. Now where was one going to get in life with an outlook like that? "Ladies first, then," she intoned dryly. The sarcasm in this was not hidden in the least, so Twilight allowed herself to be consumed in her own scoffing sneer. She stared blithely across the now very slim gap in between their two agreeably competitive forms, feeling her own flanks quiver slightly in anticipation as the other's hackles flew up in a menacing sail and she so proudly states her name. "Idris verch Rhonwen, by Yorath... Captain of the Realm of Warriors." Twilight rolled her eyes visibly as if floored by the utter tediousness of this. "Quite the mouthful," she commented dryly, picking up one of her forepaws at that moment and seeming to find greater interest in the fleck of stone that had lodged itself in between her pads. It was becoming quite a bother. Idly, Twilight plucked at the foreign body with her expertly intricate fangs and Idris presence seemed to fall out of her ranges of importance. Make no mistake though, this demoness knew there was no room in which she could afford underestimating any wolf she came across. Especially if they bore the feather of the Warrior and boasted of a high rank, there had to be some sort of merit towards that appointment. Twilight had seen the look in her eyes, solid and frigid like her own, chalked full of the tiny phantom creatures which plagued her mind. She had inherited these from her mother, and simultaneously thanked and abhorred her for the fact. Two she-wolves, vastly different if you picked at all of the little impurities and differences that embroidered their external selves. Yet if you went a little deeper, into the real flesh and bones of everything there was really not all that much remarkable to be seen. It was all standard, all uniform. Twilight had figured this out at a very early age, disemboweling the first rabbit she had ever caught. As she had watched it shiver and squirm, screaming like only a dying rabbit could scream, she had marveled at the oily coils of intestines and other organs, the color the shape. All things she had seen inside of the belly of a stag, or in the entrails of a trespasser wolf. We're all made of the same goddamn parts. "And you're Order. Care to explain why you were staking out rogue territory? Or were you just having a solo pissing contest?" Not intent on giving out her name any time soon, Twilight lifted her head only slightly now and fixed her gaze upon Idris once again, having removed the fleck of stone from her paw with ease. It seemed that the other had earned the white imp's full attention once again, but for how long? It was the mention of her organization, the sheer loathing painted in those words and the command on her tongue that almost sent her spinning into spirals of vexing laughter once again. This time she bit down on her tongue, feeling the gentle pop and crunch as one of her teeth broke through the flesh of her sensitive appendage. The taste of her own blood broke out in her mouth, but it was not all that unpleasant. Though Idris verch Rhonwen, by Yorath would undoubtedly catch the pinkish smear of her blood-mixed spittle awash across her ivory tusks. "Good guess. What gave me away, my charm? Maybe the tattoo?" It was obvious that even in this serious moment that Twilight was not willing to release the handle of her playful attitude. Plus, every time she spoke she could almost feel the other shudder visibly as if barely able to hold herself back. "The last time I checked, Idris verch Rhonwen By Yorath, I am indeed of The Order, and we have a chain of command. I only answer to my superiors in rank, and even half of them don't deserve to spit on the ground I trod upon." Her ears turned back, and she gazed away from Idris a fraction of an inch, her own hackles quivering slightly, on the verge of flying up from the sheer excitement. Her father's trademark sneer was ever present, marked by the glow of her own pinkish blood. "Though you may consider yourself some sort of authority, I do not, flatfoot. As much as you may enjoy running around the island playing Traum Police, the color of your feather has no significance to me. You're just another wolf.. So please, if you can come up with some sort of valid reason for me to even pay attention to the words you say, you let me know." Contempt leaked out of every pore in her body. Twilight gave her tail a dismissive flick.

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[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] "The last time I checked, Idris verch Rhonwen By Yorath, I am indeed of The Order, and we have a chain of command. I only answer to my superiors in rank, and even half of them don't deserve to spit on the ground I trod upon." Idris flicked one ear dismissively at the expected eye-rolling and droll mocking of her heritage, and raised her eyebrows as the white witch continued her glib speeches. "Strange sort of chain, then, if it puts your majesty so low." The sarcasm in her voice was blatant, and in almost any other situation, with any other wolf, she might have attempted to tone it down. But there were no shades of gray, here. This wolf had gone looking for trouble, she'd found it, and she obviously wasn't going to be pacified, even if Idris was the kind of wolf for diplomacy. The other femme's ears flattened against her head, her snarl opening even more, if possible, and that was when Idris noted the foaming pinkness glistening on her teeth and black lips. Threads of darker pink and even red flowed through it, twisting and running like the oily sheen on bad meat. The mahogany she-wolf flicked her eyes back up to the stranger's. This wolf was either sick, mad, or both. As such, she was the perfect target. Idris allowed herself the tiniest of grins. This nameless, hulking she-demon was everything she fought in the Order. She was twisted, she was blood-thirsty, and, if Idris's guesses were correct, she was Dragunov's daughter and loyal, ghostly shadow. "Though you may consider yourself some sort of authority, I do not, flatfoot. As much as you may enjoy running around the island playing Traum Police, the color of your feather has no significance to me. You're just another wolf.. So please, if you can come up with some sort of valid reason for me to even pay attention to the words you say, you let me know." A line of raised hair sprouted along her spine, extending down from the threatening display of hackles. It limned the silhouette of her back, ragged edges showing dark against the snowy woods. "Well, I could explain that I've been assigned these woods to keep safe from your kind and for others. Or that this territory doesn't belong to the Order, and so your marking was obviously looking for trouble. But I expect those would all be beyond your apparently limited attention span, so how about this..." She squared off with the other wolf, placing them face to face and the vulnerable parts of her body behind her lowered head and a bright wall of bared teeth. She felt everything more keenly in that moment; first, the processes of her own body, her heart pounding in her deep chest, sending blood rushing through her body, keeping her warm despite the cold outside, her lungs taking up that ample space, the electric power crackling along all her nerves, tingling in her legs and in her gums around the roots of her teeth and in the back of her skull. Second, the sensations of the outside world: the steam rising in slow, wing-like waves from her figure, every solid grain and melting flake of snow beneath her paws, the rigidly frozen earth beneath that. Her grin grew wider, spreading to both sides of her muzzle; her eyes were brilliantly tawny within their kohl-like linings, brighter than the chestnut fur that made up her mask, spheres of amber held up to the sun. Reflective specks of gold swam madly in their depths. "...I'm big, and I'm not going anywhere until you do."

[Makarov]

[atrb=border,0,true][cs=7][bg=000000] Every single fiber of this monstrous female's being seemed to crumble and shudder in front of Twilight's very eyes. She felt pleased, oddly warmed and satisfied on the inside somewhere in her guts. It was as if she had just consumed a hot, fresh kill, yet the feeling lacked the sluggishness that usually came after wards. So what if all in all it led to a tussle or a struggle? From a very young age Twilight Heaven had been trained alongside her brother to withstand constant beating and training. Her body had been shaped and poised through every blow she had taken and learned to absorb. Knowing the punch that a grown Russian male could land, it simply made it all the more easier to ignore the apprehensions that came with fear of pain and death. This white washed demoness did not fear pain though. Like the rest of her family she understood it, learned to utilize it, and even had a bit of a bond with it, which was normal for a sado-masochist at least. And thus she goaded. Twilight Heaven feared humiliation, feared the breaking of her pride. She did not fear tooth nor claw nor muscle. "Strange sort of chain, then, if it puts your majesty so low." Twi grinned blithely and said. "You of all wolves should realize that one's opinion of themselves, especially in my line of work, usually never reflects their rank... Huh, and I thought you might be a bright one." Anticipation was building like a wildfire where simple anger was looming on the other side of the spectrum. Just from that stance, from the gentle shudder of fur and muscle along her form, Twilight sensed Idris was becoming more and more ready to spring. She flexed her steel claws into the snow and her muscles moved to cover over the thick and extensive framework of heavy bones that made up the basest structures of her body. The building blocks that came soon after molecules. Now when she spoke there was a vigorous edge to it, a kind of wavering and shaking as if she could barely keep herself back. "Well, I could explain that I've been assigned these woods to keep safe from your kind and for others. Or that this territory doesn't belong to the Order, and so your marking was obviously looking for trouble. But I expect those would all be beyond your apparently limited attention span, so how about this..." The sharp whipping sting of Twilight Heaven's tones sprang up without hesitation. She may not have been a wolf of the extensive thought calibers but she was quick on her paws when it came to words when she needed to be."Huh and does it look like I've been out killing left and right like a mindless murderer? You came to me bitch, you challenged and commanded and attempted to bully me around and you still think it's me who's so full of hate and prejudice. If you have such a problem about me taking a piss in the woods then do something about it, honey. My limited attention span? You're the one bitching in fucking circles. It's like you're unable to grasp more then one linear thought about pseudo justice." And then the challenge was set. Idris came forward and Twilight felt a snarl building up deep in her guts, ripping up through her vocal cords and humming through her clenched teeth. The chestnut hued wolfess set her legs evenly apart, thrusting her chest forward and throwing the flag of her tail up as she lowered her head towards her opponent. Twilight was suddenly ready, but she was not stupid, she was not about to rush headlong into this one. Idris was definitely no Carson and she would not be such an easy toy to play with, no if push came to shove she would be putting in all her might. Twi's coral tongue slipped out between her clenched fangs and ran a shining gleam of spittle across her ivory white tusks. It seemed as though this self-righteous messenger of the higher who-gives-a-fuck would not be willing to step down and simply let the ivory witch go about her business. She had wished to visit Crouse again in the Revolt's given territory but it looked as though that would have to wait. "...I'm big, and I'm not going anywhere until you do." She whipped her crimson gaze up and down across the other bitch before setting a grim smirk on her face and quirking up one brow. "Huh, damn straight you're big," she snickered scornfully, her tail bristling out like a bottlebrush. "I'm not a dumbfuck. If you want to dance, you'll have to come to me, butch. Her muscles tensed like iron.

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] "You of all wolves should realize that one's opinion of themselves, especially in my line of work, usually never reflects their rank... Huh, and I thought you might be a bright one." Idris guffawed outright at that, a mocking sound that, she had to admit, bore some resemblance to the white fae's earlier cackles, although deeper in tone. "So you admit that you're a puffed up ego on stilts." Her tail lashed, and she made a mock start forward, keeping her hind legs still but rising up slightly and shoving her forelegs outward; she landed with a snap of her jaws in the air and gave another grin, still chuckling. A very primal part of her was deeply enjoying this. She was tired of gray areas; she had trained and worked and sought for years to fight The Order bastards who had killed her kin, and here was the daughter of Dragunov himself, brashly insulting her and openly inviting conflict. Her path was clear, and it led, finally, to a guilt-free testing of wills, physical combat. "You came to me bitch, you challenged and commanded and attempted to bully me around and you still think it's me who's so full of hate and prejudice. If you have such a problem about me taking a piss in the woods then do something about it, honey. My limited attention span?" Dark brown hackles shivered in the wind--and with anticipation--as their warrior owner saw the Order she-wolf beginning to lose her insouciant attitude of flippant nonchalance. A low growl curved its way from her throat, a steady, rumbling thunder that would wake any nearby prey animals in a cold sweat of terror and make them burrow deeper in their dens and holes. When she spoke, it warped her voice, giving it the rasping feel of breaking stones. "Oh, get on with it." The marble white witch raked her eyes along Idris's body, and it felt like hot pricks of tiny, needle-sharp teeth, stoking her fury and setting an uncomfortable heat inside her. She further fanned the first and ignored the latter, bunching the muscles in her hind legs, drawing her forelegs closer to her center. "I'm not a dumbfuck. If you want to dance, you'll have to come to me, butch." Idris would have preferred to have the spot of waiting for her first move, but she wouldn't waste time trying to goad the other into a first strike, and she wouldn't give her more time to prepare herself. Before the femme had finished speaking, Idris had launched herself forward, a flying, fire-eyed cataclysm with each and every pound of her substantial muscle and bulk moving and transforming into violent momentum. Just short of reaching the other she-wolf, she dove down, crouching herself low enough to get below the standing level of her opponent's head, and then exploding back upwards. She aimed her open maw for the creamy expanse of throat.

[Makarov]

[atrb=border,0,true][cs=7][bg=000000] She could see that anticipation, watching Idris wind up like a toy with a little silver key in their back, getting ready to rock'em and sock'em. If they had been two human females, fists of clenched hair would have been flying long ago, but nay there was a firm sort of patience that came only the warrior predator. Especially the warrior wolf, be they male or female. It defined them as an animal species and though it might not have seemed like waiting long by their personal standards, to an outsider of another species the wide array of posturing and squaring off that ensued beforehand was like a delicious precursor to what awaited them next. And that was the unbridled raging flow of power and adrenaline. The rest of what poured from Idris' fat, failing mouth were insults, attempting to goad her forward but here Twilight made use of her ability for selective hearing and she drown the others' voice out with the thrum of her own heart in her ribcage, beating a sonorous war anthem throughout her entire being. It was clear that she wanted the white witch to fly in for the first volley but that wasn't going to happen. So Twilight spoke again, this time urging Idris one final push, something to send her plummeting. Well she'd be damned, it worked all too well and the aphotic beast of a bitch unlatched the quivering muscles in her hind legs, sending herself propelling forward like a rocket lined with a fanged and clawed hugging grip that could very well crush the life out of her like a bear. Twilight had not even finished speaking when Idris made her move, but the ice witch had been adamant of something like this happening, an attempt to gain the upper paw at an early time and prove that the Warrior's grit was far more powerful then that of a trained, remorseless killer. Several things happened as she glimpsed the body coming straight towards her; her pupils dialated fully, as did her blood vessels, sending a fresh flow of adrenaline-filled liquid pumping renewed through her. As well everything in her body seemed forced into some sort of absurd quicker reaction time. Idris came at her, but her movements were far too swift to be entirely predictable as she came just short and attempted to get underneath her opponent's front half. Twilight was already skipping away backwards on paws as light as a dancer's. Their twinned motions seemed to be in slow motion, and perhaps that was the only reason Twilight found herself able to slip back just far enough from those jaws, set and ready to end this encounter early, that she did not lose her throat just yet. A hot flush of pain surged from her bottom jaw directly into her brainstem. Idris may not have gotten purchase on her silken throat, but she now had a good grip on the underside of the witch's bottom jaw and those teeth closed in towards eachother, grinding and crunching against her fragile jawbone, seeking to either rip it straight off or just crush it to a state of uselessness. But locked on, Idris was unable to go anyways, though her body attempted to push and bully the heavenly demoness backwards her powerful hind legs dug in deep and she began to wrestle forward the best she could, attempting to ignore the sheer brutality of the pain that swept up from her sorely shook about mandible. Just because Idris had a grip on her, did not mean she couldn't fight back and through the haze of pain she saw her chance. Twilight's forelimbs wrapped defiantly across that deeply hued head and neck and as their snarls of passionate hatred and feral pain penetrated the frozen night, the hooks of her steely claws dug deep into the lush layers of neckfur, seeking flesh while the rest of her body pushed as far up on top of Idris as she could, looking to snuff out all of her senses with the press of muscle and fur wrapping up all around: smell, sight, sound. With her claws in place she would begin to heave back and forth in intense, bodily motions, almost swinging herself to and fro attempting to keep measured control over her musculature, her entire body really, lest she ran the risk of losing this dance. It was a movement meant to disorientate, and if she was lucky, Idris would disengage her jaws and Twilight could get a proper chunk as well. This was not what killing Carson had been like, in fact it was so far from the fact that Twilight was almost thrown into shock. The taste of her own blood bubbling up through her roughly squeezed lower gums invigorated her though and she fought with a power she knew not that she had possessed before this. So this was what a real fight felt like? It was unpleasant and yet singularly exhilerating. Her heart galloped wildly in her chest and something in the back of her head - it sounded so suspiciously like her Father..no Wintersleep? Ah she just wasn't sure in this bloody haze - was telling her not to give up. To fight like a Solokov. And so she did. OOC;; Holy fuckin HELLYEAH! That felt good to write.

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[Stardust]

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[atrb=background,http://i55.tinypic.com/dxdcg7.jpg] As dances went, it was not an elegant one, but it was beautiful, nonetheless, in a primal and savage way. Guttural snarls ripped through the tense stillness of the nighttime forest as the two behemoths crashed together, fur, flesh, and bone shuddering under the impact. They moved together like tectonic plates, or like opposite poles of a magnet, violent and inevitable. It was a pity no other living creatures were there to witness it. Her opponent was faster than she'd expected, she'd give her that--she managed to twist up and away from her snapping jaws, dancing on light feet, but Idris still felt a grim pleasure as her teeth connected with jawbone and bit down. The only down side was that the white demon was now above her. Their bodies were equally matched, but with the advantage of angle and the ability to drop her weight down instead of push it upward, the Solokov was slowly bearing her down. Idris felt her claws digging deep into the thick musculature of her back, leaving scratched runnels behind in their wake. The lines ran along either side of her spine, into her ruff, burning in the cold. Solokov, as she'd taken to calling the female, was shifting her body back and forth in heavy rocking motions as her weight shoved her pelt down onto Idris's nose and eyes. The motion was strange--she'd never encountered anything like it in a fight before--but she was getting to the point of needing to make a choice. Letting go of her hold on the vixen's jaw would give her a chance to strike back, but clinging on would put her in a more and more difficult position, and the snowy witch didn't seem inclined to drop from just a jaw wound. The taste of blood filled her mouth, dribbling in a salty trickle down into the back of her throat. Normally, the flavor of another wolf's blood would have turned her stomach, but the hot, earthy, taboo liquid coating her tongue now gave her an extra thrill, bringing the reality of their conflict into fully fleshed out detail. With a louder barrage of snarling, she waited until Solokov was at the further of one of her shifting arcs, and used that moment to disengage, trying to twist her opponent off balance at the same time. She kept her jaws locked on until the last moment and gave her upper body a turning motion, hoping it would be enough to spill the fae on her side, or at least make her stumble. Once she'd let go, Idris drew herself out backwards, collecting briefly in an arched-back hunch. She sprang forward once more, this time aiming for her opponent's side, close to her shoulders, attempting to put the force of her body's blow into whatever movement her twisting exit had created. Blood-stained teeth flashed as she went in for another hold. ((OOC: AwwRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Hehehe. Whee. ^.^