[m] sarcastic savior

Vesper · 08-13-2012, 10:53 AM

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Vesper is by Nat!

(588)

Her skills were for sparring, for fighting one-on-one with an opponent and rarely to the death. She had no trouble leaping in, dealing damage, and leaping out again, taking advantage of her small size and agility to make sure she wasn’t touched in return. That was simple when facing off against one—or even two—opponents in lupus form, but with four enemies in the vicinity, the going was tougher. It almost reminded her of the dreaded war, but at least then, even when facing against steel and armor and horses, she and her comrades had more or less ended up outnumbering the foes she engaged in combat.

Right now, Vesper locked claws with one luperci, and another approached her dangerously, and another wiped blood from the scratches on his face. She could hear pathetic yelps off to her right and reasoned that, however good he was with a bow, the collie hybrid knew shit about hand-to-hand combat; eventually he’d get his ass whipped and she’d be left facing four again.

She hoped that Stark would bring someone back, because she didn’t know how long she’d last herself.

The rich-tawny female wolf tightened her grip on Ves’ hands, yanking her closer, but the Infernian used the momentum to plant herself in the middle of the wolf’s chest, where she none-too-tenderly bit her breast and ducked away again when the woman shrieked. Snarling, her good ear flat against her messy mane, she adopted a low stance and tried to watch all three luperci at the same time. The one with the knife exchanged a glance with the one the raven had attacked, and they rushed her; she tried to duck but was slashed on the arm for her troubles. Doing her best to keep moving, to make herself a difficult target, she darted and pulled tails and essentially made a game of evading them, at least until she tired.

Asher was faring a little better, no longer making so many pathetic noises, but blood still leaked onto his tricolor coat. She had no way of knowing how grave the injuries were, and she didn’t feel like grabbing the attention of a fourth foe.

The poachers eventually caught on to her dance. She could bob and weave, but she couldn’t flat-out sprint for the grasslands without abandoning the coydog, and her movements had grown predictable. One of the wolves sidestepped and dealt her a blow that had her falling to the dirt, and when she found her feet, they had surrounded her, lips wrinkled into ugly sneers.

Vesper snarled shrilly, turning constantly to get a look at all of them. As she pivoted, she saw Asher raise his fist for a blow before his fluffy ears pricked suddenly. Straining her own hearing, she thought she noticed hoofbeats—but rapidly approaching ones, not far-off like she expected. She recoiled just as a spotted monster burst through the foliage, a demon leaping off its back onto one of her opponents.

The millisecond she recognized the dusky pelt rolling into the bushes, she reached out and struck the she-wolf again, taking advantage of the surprise. Her snarl turned into a feral grin, and she swiped deep cuts into both of the woman’s cheeks before delivering a kick to her leg. Another wolf grabbed at her, but she only bit into the hand reaching out, feeling one of his fingers break under her teeth. She was quick to let go of him, jumping at the she-wolf one more time, managing to knock her down.

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