Let It Burn (private)

[Aveilthé]

OOC: This is a roleplay between Relairah and I

"I've learned to lose
I've learned to win
I've turned my face against the wind..."

The Empress was crouched upon a high rock, cunning pale eyes sweeping the ground. No longer was she the young, naive child everyone knew her to be. Fat smoothed into hard muscles, making her stronger than she ever was. They strained against her skin, with every movement. Paws, once dainty, grew and calloused, allowing her to run in the harshest of environments. Her long blue horns gleamed, serrated and sharp, a deadly weapon on her head. The scales along her throat, chest, and belly hardened and became her armor, also enhancing her ever-growing beauty that her uncle hoped her to be.

And he was right. She was stronger and faster, and more beautiful than ever. As for gaining respect from the many Giaku wolves, that was another story. Quietly as she lie in wait on the rock against the canyon, she thought impatiently on how long she would finally gain respect from them all.

Of course, being a single Empress caused some problems. A few creepy wolves of the empire had already approached her and asked to court, and she quickly refused. Yet they were persistent, always doting upon her and giving her gifts of meat daily. This made her feel wary. One in particular was much older, an elderly wolf, and he had a kind of cunning that she was fearful of. She had not told her uncle about it, because... well... she figured he had enough on his plate without hearing more of her sordid problems.

But today, she relished in her training. That meant that she was away from everybody that tried to get it on with her. This was one of her final trainings, a harbinger to a test her uncle had laid out for her, but she was not yet ready for it. But if she could finally bring down a renowned wolf in the empire that was fairly strong and practiced in the arts of combat, then she may finally move on to the last stage.

She wondered who this wolf is. She waited for him on the high rock, her heart gaining speed with every passing second. Oh yes, she was excited!

"I will move fast
I will move slow
Take me where I have to go..."

[Relairah]

She moved along at a steady pace over the Giaku terrain. Of all the different places she could be, the Wabishii Badlands was not at the top of the list, but no matter. Today was not a day to bother over petty things such as the possibility of getting covered in mud and stink. So she ignored the stained look that was coming over her white paws and focused on the lands ahead of her.

Like Lacrimosa, Mascamora had hardened and grown in many ways. Physically, her muscles and features had become defined through the fluff of her fur and hardened to endure many hardships. Emotionally and mentally, she had matured and grown also, though perhaps some of her mischievous ways would always remain under the surface.

There had been many factors for this process, aside from the time spent training and in excessive exercise. Also like her sister, she sought the respect of the Empire, but perhaps much differently. Where they would look up to her as Empress, she wanted them to respect her as a proven individual. She was sick of those who taunted and spat on her for her resemblance to their father, Endymion. She had her own reasons for her efforts to prove herself as someone capable and powerful. Someone to be reckoned with, perhaps.

It hadn't been too long ago when Charon had approached her and explained to her she had accomplished much, but still had a ways to go. He had told her of this day, around this time, when she would meet another wolf in combat. She was determined and ready, eager to meet her opponent. Of course their uncle had only mentioned the time and place and not specifically who it would be. Who knew why. But soon, they would find out anyway.

So it was perhaps a bit surprising to Mascamora when she came upon the likes of her sister, one she loved very deeply. At first, the urge to do something silly came over her, but then she remembered this was hardly time for such things. So she pushed it from her mind, keeping herself focused. So, this was to be her opponent. She would give it her best, she told herself silently.

She approached, slowing her pace and faced Lacrimosa, poised upon a high rock so that she was above her. That was hardly a concern for Mascamora. Every muscle in her body was waiting, as if even the core of her body knew what was about to happen. "So it is you, Lacrimosa, that I will face and challenge in combat today." She couldn't help feeling a bit anxious, curious as to who between the two of them was the better. It was competition. She waited for her sister's response.

[Aveilthé]

Claws raked the stone in impatience--where was he? Just when she was about to give up and scurry off, she heard something silently creeping through the dark. She received quite a shock when something white rounded a rocky corner and appeared before Lacrimosa.

Seemingly confused, the Empress rose herself up, mouth slightly agape. There must be some kind of mistake... would Charon ever allow them both to to fight each other? Was he trying to see which one was better? Her whole body went rigid, her fur standing on end. No... don't let your feelings stand in the way... after all, it is not a serious fight... it is only pretend... it's like we're little again, pretending to be someone we weren't...

She tried to look cool like her mother--unphased and proud. "Finally the day will see some real action. Come sister, take the first move!"

Jumping easily her perch, she landed a few yards away from the white one. She prepared her battle-position, lowering herself as if ready to spring. Her tufted tail swayed from left to right, like a lion determining the right time to attack. A broad grin took over her face. Her excitement was mounting. She was ready to prove herself.

[Relairah]

Ears flickered as her sister spoke, and the excitement mounting in the Empress was mirrored within Mascamora. Real action, indeed. She crouched as her sister leaped from her perch, her muscles tense, half-expecting her sister would have attacked when she had leaped. But no, Lacrimosa was waiting on her. Perhaps rightly so. But time should not be wasted on banter. It was a fight before them, pretend or no.

She sprang into action, the days spent wrestling as pups suddenly dashing through her mind. She grinned also, resisting the puppyish urges of pouncing. No, the long hours of training beneath Charon would definitely be what came into play here and now.

A low growl escaped from her throat, perhaps instinctually as she lunged toward her sister, though her eyes shone, showing that she held no true hostility. The key to a fight, she had once been told, was to seek the swiftest and most efficient way to stop your opponent. In this way, you would bring down the threat, and also save energy for yourself.

She attempted to use that advice even now as she began the fight, making several attempts to push Lacrimosa to the ground beneath her paws or batting at her sister. She even attempted to bite at her, though if she were successful, Lacrimosa would find they were not intended to severely wound.

[Aveilthé]

Tufted tail lashed violently behind her now, unable to hide her excitement any longer. She too remembered the days when they were youngsters and tumbling around for fun, but now they are adults, and such a thing no longer existed between them. This was the real deal. A test of strength and stamina.

Lacrimosa allowed Mascamora to pin her back, but when her sister accomplished it, the black one emitted a grunt and in turn thrust her paws and attempted to throw Mascamora off of her her.

They had received a very small audience of wolves, keen on witnessing whom the victor shall be.

[Relairah]

Upon first discovering her opponent, Mascamora had felt a desire to fight, though perhaps a feeling of not caring if she won or not. Lacrimosa was the Empress - it was her rightful place. If it were her own capabilities to defeat her sister, it didn't mean she should carry it out. Besides, if anyone saw, which with their gathering audience, some would, they might question her sister's position - even more so than they already had. Mascamora knew the pack's strong desire against her own being Empress due to her resemblance to Endymion.

But now Masca wondered if it would really be so bad. After all, it wasn't like this was a fight over who would be Empress. It was a battle to prove their own training and abilities. Perhaps it wasn't the outcome, but how the battle was carried out that mattered. She wasn't really sure. Uncle Charon had said this would be a final test of her training. To prove herself to all in Giaku. Briefly she remembered everything of her relatives and their relations. How they wouldn't hesitate to kill family if it meant the greater of the pack or perhaps vengeance. Well at least as far as her own father was concerned. Were they to demonstrate their training not just in fighting tactics, but in ability to care only of conquer rather than emotional attachments? She wasn't sure.

Physically, Mascamora was bigger than her sister; still she was surprised when she successfully pinned her down. As she had been taught, she went for her sister's neck - not that she would bite to draw blood, but to demonstrate victory. But before she could, Lacrimosa had pushed her off and she rolled, quickly moving to get back to her feet, the dirt collecting and obvious in her white fur. She eyed Lacrimosa, anticipating what might come next. Whatever her sister did, Mascamora would put her honest efforts in. Perhaps she would let Lacri win, or perhaps it didn't matter. But either way, she would not let it show. She was just as determined to prove herself as anyone. To prove she wasn't just some underling resemblance of the great Druin who had been slain.

And so the fight continued. She lunged toward her sister once again, the thoughts of puppyish play quickly vanishing and training and instincts coming more to the front of her mind. Her eyes were focused, keen. She sought for every vantage point or weakness that might show itself.

[Aveilthé]

Their claws raked the depleted earth, forcing a cloud of dust into the dark and clouded ceiling. The deep red and brown dirt swelled into a dust storm, aided by strong winds. This may cause blindness, but the young Empress was slow to realize the effect it could have on she and her sister.

Lacrimosa was certain that the gods too had come from their heavenly dome to watch over them. With their all-seeing eyes, not even a dust storm cold stop them from witnessing the clash of royal blood. Already, she allowed her tongue to roll from her mouth. She could taste the sweat they were beginning to permeate.

The white demon was near, and soon the dark one could see the shape of her sister preparing for another attack. Mascamora lunged, and like a horse rearing, the Empress gave a wild snarl and lashed out her forelegs, her claws slicing the air. She had to close her eyes at this point; the dust was starting to sting her eyes.