04-30-2011, 10:04 PM
Word count: +300
Kid? So that was the male's opinion of him. He felt anger well up inside of him. Sure, Viggo wasn't nearly as large as the other male, nor did he have as many seasons as the other... and he didn't have the physique or most likely the incredible resume of fights, but he had been through hell. His journey had taken him, by paw, over 2,000 miles. Not to mention he had been forced into exile from an abusive relationship courtesy of his uncle. An uncle who this brute reminded him of upon their first encounter. Jumping immediately to violence. All of that while his father, alpha to the pack, stood by in feigned ignorance doing nothing.
He snorted his derision at the comment of Men don't just sit on the ground. He wouldn't have been on the ground in the first place if it hadn't been for the man before him.
Perhaps he could show him? Exactly how do you plan to manage that? Sparring...oh, that will definitely show him. Letting him kick your scrawny ass for no reason. The male (whom Viggo quickly noticed did not offer his name during this exchange of words, more like insults) turned his back, apparently intent on returning to his noise making through his sparring efforts. Anger now beginning to subside coupled with the fact the red youth knew he was in no immediate danger (provided he wasn't going to provoke the other into it) caused him to want to linger in the clearing. Why exactly, he wasn't sure. Most likely it was simply curiosity again. Heck, it's gotten me this far.
Moving clear of the grey warrior, he squatted to watch. After allowing several moments to pass, he built the courage to voice a simple question. "What are you practicing for? Is the Cour at war?" He felt the question simple enough to deserve and answer yet not so bothersome as to elicit more directed barbs. Rusty ears were perked, wondering if the male would even answer him.
Kid? So that was the male's opinion of him. He felt anger well up inside of him. Sure, Viggo wasn't nearly as large as the other male, nor did he have as many seasons as the other... and he didn't have the physique or most likely the incredible resume of fights, but he had been through hell. His journey had taken him, by paw, over 2,000 miles. Not to mention he had been forced into exile from an abusive relationship courtesy of his uncle. An uncle who this brute reminded him of upon their first encounter. Jumping immediately to violence. All of that while his father, alpha to the pack, stood by in feigned ignorance doing nothing.
He snorted his derision at the comment of Men don't just sit on the ground. He wouldn't have been on the ground in the first place if it hadn't been for the man before him.
Perhaps he could show him? Exactly how do you plan to manage that? Sparring...oh, that will definitely show him. Letting him kick your scrawny ass for no reason. The male (whom Viggo quickly noticed did not offer his name during this exchange of words, more like insults) turned his back, apparently intent on returning to his noise making through his sparring efforts. Anger now beginning to subside coupled with the fact the red youth knew he was in no immediate danger (provided he wasn't going to provoke the other into it) caused him to want to linger in the clearing. Why exactly, he wasn't sure. Most likely it was simply curiosity again. Heck, it's gotten me this far.
Moving clear of the grey warrior, he squatted to watch. After allowing several moments to pass, he built the courage to voice a simple question. "What are you practicing for? Is the Cour at war?" He felt the question simple enough to deserve and answer yet not so bothersome as to elicit more directed barbs. Rusty ears were perked, wondering if the male would even answer him.