[P] Shark bait ooh ha ha

[Avaiki Asylum]

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Ick, nasty starter is nasty [220]

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Light peeked over the treetops, early morning light catching off the dew of the grass, giving the grounds an almost magical appearance, so secluded and quite at that moment that she couldn't help but wonder if the arena was nothing more than an illusion. But of course, it wasn't; she'd helped in the final stages, swapping out of pup duty with Brumaire to do her share of work, so of course this place was within reality.

Tightening her trip on the staff in hand, she stepped forward, having to restrain herself to a brisk walk, rather than run into the sand expanse in childish glee like she desired. With her free hand, she placed it on the top of the fencing, using the horizontal bar to anchor herself, the hybrid volted over, landing upon the soft sand, her arm forming an arch as she swung her staff over the fence too, placing the end into the sand.

It was then she grinned widely, casting her sights around the expanse. It was empty, for now, a perfect opportunity to start warming up and running through some practice movements, in hope that someone to spar with would eventually show themselves. Spreading her stance, she balanced the staff against the fence, before beginning to stretch out her limbs, one by one in preparation.

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[Messiah de le Poer]

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Sorry about this rambly-ass post, omg. x_x Have just been trying to develop Messiah a little better and get back into his nasty little head. 8D

He'd stewed after the grey coyote rejected him, retreating to his caves, bitter and ashamed. It seemed like days before he left -- even if he had to depart to hunt for himself and his brother and occasionally patrol or do other rote tasks so the leadership didn't look down too much at him. His gait was always the same, though, sullen, head and tail low, almost limping as he hobbled along and did what he had to before he retreated again.

After a while, Messiah got angry.

Shame became rage became justifcations and acidic words at the tip of his tongue for if he should run across her again -- but he didn't. It was probably for the better that Vicira seemed to avoid him more devoutly than he'd tried to avoid her. He continued to skulk around -- so much, in fact, that he stumbled across one of the Legatus who peered down her sharp, scarred muzzle at him and, after a moment and some introductions (which involved a lot of excitement and loudness on his part because she had so many scars!) she idly (if coolly) suggested he take the shiv he was just clutching and go to the training grounds.

It's done?! Messiah had yapped, forgetting his rage (and forgetting how much Vicira had smelled like this woman). The warrior-leader named Vesper had smiled and said "close enough" and left him, turning to run off through the fields toward the rabbit warrens.

The rising sun was in his eyes as he ran, but finally he reached the constructed arena, eyeballing the fence and noting that someone was standing inside it already! He eagerly yapped a hello and rushed, more clambering than jumping over the fence, and landed in the dirt on his ass.

Red eyes shattered with yellow glanced up, and Messiah stiffened a moment when he saw height and grey fur -- but this one was one of those dogs with a coyote parent, not good but not bad if she lived here, and he relaxed. Hi, he offered, standing and brushing sand off his gingery fur. He bent and picked up his weapon -- no more than a sharpened industrial screw on a metal rod. Do you wanna spar?

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