we are fuel and fire both
#1
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(Branching off directly from this thread. Private for Minos.)


Fire was a hellish thing—he watched the dilapidated shacks go up in the infernos. The smell was terrible, acrid and becoming worse as the accent of singed fur accompanied it. Someone was in there, and it wasn't until the all-too-familiar nightmare form appeared that he realized they had caught Haku Soul himself. He called for his henchmen before immediately rushing towards the grouping of coyote arsonists. Snake traced his path, easily judging that it was going right to Gabriel. He knew this was his duty, and so he prepared himself to move to protect the Aquila.


The Dahlian reinforcements did not give him the chance. They appeared more swiftly than he would have guessed and they were doing as they should in a war situation—diverting the coyotes' attention from the warring leaders. Snake knew that he could not ignore an assailant without repercussions, so he faced the one that had singled him out. A white wolf, pale hairs appearing like a gold-orange halo in the lurid light of the fire. Snake was not intimidated, however—his cold and calculating mind was fully in control. It was part of what made him such a dangerous fighter. He was still and silent until collision—some might snarl or growl or gnash their teeth, but Snake was still and silent. Perhaps that was what made him more dangerous; he didn't give any warnings.


There was no time to avoid so he tried to meet it with a similar attack. Though they were both in Secui form, he was still smaller—such as he was, being a coyote and the other being a wolf. But his jaws were still lethal, snapping as needed. At the moment, however, Snake was playing defensively. He worked on keeping any vital areas (throat, stomach, ect) away from the attacking Dahlian. He would capitalize on whatever opening he perceived in the future.

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#2
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thanks for starting Big Grin


Smoke filled his lungs, stinging his nose and burning his chest. Yet the wolf was propelled by duty, loyalty that ran so deep that it was laced in his rivers of blood that pounded through his heart. The fighting was all around, the sound of the blaze almost drowning out the sound of one snarling collision after another. But the blood could not be masked. The heavy musk of coyote nor the palatable smoke could cover the metallic tinge that their noses were so equip to scent and drawn to find.

There was no sound made by the creature he charged, hardly a shift in his features as the coyote. The leaner frame moved away from his first assault, teeth aiming for the ever tender throat. He yearned for blood, a lust covering his eyes and searching for the nearest piece of flesh to sink lightly yellowed teeth into. He leaned back, a single momentary shift in order to propel himself faster and harder into the smaller canine. Mouth wide was the only way he knew to fight, his days of submissive roll overs showing him there was no other way to intimidate or kill. A throaty growl sounded his intention, lethal jaws aiming for the soft meat of his opponent's side.



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#3
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The action seemed to slow in Snake's battle-trained eyes—they took in every movement of his opponent's body, mapping out where he was going. Intentions were hard to read in words and faces, but oh, it was clear as day when he watched movement. It was too fast and brutal of an onslaught for him to avoid entirely, but every muscle in his body had become coiled like a spring at the white wolf's approach. As soon as he was close enough to strike, Snake tried to slide out of the way and towards a counterattack. He was half successful. He could feel the wolf's teeth and the furrowed gauges they left. But that pain was nonexistent, and he was not being held by anything. That was a victory to him—those wounds would heal.


The smaller coyote used his speed (which he hoped was unexpected, seeing as though he had been so still only a moment before) to bring his body out of the direct front of the wolf—he was avoiding a second bite while he aligned his own attack. He was perpendicular to the white form now, and he wasted no time in attacking similarly to how his opponent had only seconds ago. Entirely ignorant of the blood that covered his flank, Snake lurched towards Minos' side, throwing his Secui bulk at the wolf while his teeth gnashed towards the region of his shoulder. But that was only a stepping-stone—if the wolf lost his balance and was at all distracted by the pain, the way to his throat would be much clearer.

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#4
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In a world that seemed so very far away from the odd and treacherous place Minos now lived in he would have done all he could to avoid a fight with anyone. All his instincts told him that he was to cower, to shy away and fear the touch of another. It would only bring pain, and it constructed a lowly follower that was as loyal as he was frightened. But, he had adapted and changed and the only thing that did not was his loyalty to his alpha.

The yote did not flinch, or hardly move until his white body was practically on top of him. Minos did not stop to wonder, pushing forward with hopes of a quick and painless kill. Nothing was so easy, and the smaller canine moved away with speed and experienced grace. But even though his target moved he felt the warm and the taste of blood touch his tongue It pushed him further and faster, the goal so close that he literally taste it.

But the lithe warrior moved as if his eyes could see each attack that Minos planned. Minos could only move with the coyote as it drew it's teeth for the attack, planning aside deep thoughts washed from his mind. Minos felt them pierce his skin, the burning and the pain that came could not go unnoticed and yet he did not fall to it. The coyote was so close, and Minos' drive to taste his blood once more over powered any notion of pain. Minos raised his head, back legs propelling and using the force his larger body held to lean into the beast that had bitten him. The teeth tore, but his drew close to the sandy colored neck, his legs pushing into him.




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#5
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There was never any joy in it, the feeling of slicing through another's flesh with teeth, claws, steel. Not for Snake. The blood was hot and metallic and sweet in a sickening way, but he had trained himself to ignore which would drive others into a frenzy. He merely tried to grasp, wounding despite the thick white fur. But he sensed that the wolf was planning to counterattack, twisting his neck upwards and away from Snake's grasp. The coyote only bit harder, trying to reach muscle. But then the wolf began to shift, using his superior weight and mass. Snake knew that if he remained like this, he would be knocked down and that the wolf would have access to his throat, chest, stomach. And he would be dead.


He attempted to escape, but he was so engaged with his opponent that he couldn't do so in time. Once his jaws were free from the wound he had inflicted on the wolf, he could already feel the beast pushing up against him. The teeth came, fastening on what was closest (seeing as though the wolf was closer, that was on the upper region near his shoulder and neck). Snake blocked the pain, but he knew it was there, and he knew it was substantial.


But he felt a chance -- when the wolf was focused on attacking and finding his own jugular, his might be exposed. So Snake lurched forward, jaws snapping shut around that perhaps-exposed area.

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#6
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let me know if anything should be changed


The piercing wounds tore, the blood dripping from the now ragged punctures that the coyote's teeth had inflicted. They were deep, touching the muscles and break and bruising them. The pain was unavoidable, and though his body was saturated with the numbing adrenaline not even that could blind his mind from the searing sensation.

The only thing that saved his advance was the entanglement that the two beasts and the weight that he owned against the yote. His mouth fell upon the lower neck of the sand and blood hued canine, the skin there thick and loose. It was easy to hold, but the extension of his own and the wounds that poured life from his shoulder were tearing at the effort and his grip could not lift and shake the life out of the smaller beast.

Jaws screamed in the depths of his face and up to his ears as he held them steady against the coy's form. But his legs could not hold, and the while beast leaned harder, and practically fell into the smaller jaws of the unnamed coyote. They bypassed fur, the skin butter beneath them and hit the rounded bones of his shoulder and collar. Minos could not hold any longer, his voice calling out in a growl and whine mixture. The coyotes flesh fell from his grasp and all the beast could do was push into the biting creature, falling and simultaneously trying to get away from his biting mouth.




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#7
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His entire being was divided into two for this -- one part to block the excruciating pain and the other to continue the fight. Snake thought of nothing else, and it allowed him to do pretty well at both. His entire life had been devoted to this, the fighting; he knew so little else. He knew the danger was extremely prevalent; it always was when it came to wolves. His greatest foe so far had been his brother, and they were equally-matched. Here, however, that wasn't the case. This white beast could pick him up and shake him to death if he got the chance -- Snake might be bulky for a coyote his size and age, but he was still no match for a full-grown wolf.


But somehow he managed to get a decent grasp once more, but in a much more advantageous position. He could feel the more familiar sensations of his teeth slicing through fur, skin, flesh, but then there was the far more grating sense of bone. That had to hurt. He felt the pressure leave from his own wounds (though it was a deadened sensation as he had blocked that part of his body from his thoughts) -- the wolf had let go, but now he could feel him shifting his weight entirely, attempting to get Snake off of him that way. His mind worked quickly, figuring out what would be best to do.


The keening sound that escaped the wolves bloody lips was in his ears, up above the tumultuous sounds of the other fighting. He blocked out sound, hearing only the rushing of blood in his ears, for concentration. Snake clenched his teeth, snapping his head back and forth and attempting to make the wound as grievous as he could in the time he had. Then he disengaged, releasing his hold and moving out of the way.


His breathing was ragged, his concentration slipping. The pain was setting in now, his brain becoming more and more aware of the wounds that were painted across his side, bright crimson. Acrid smoke stung his lungs. He was tired. And yet he forced himself to whip around, facing an opponent that he expected would be coming back.

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#8
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I cant believe i didnt see this ><.. so sorry! we can end this soon, if you'd like.



The teeth ripped, shredding the skin and partial muscle. It was excruciating and his mind grew black and blank as he stumbled over the ground. The coyote was no longer beneath him, his teeth freed from Mino's shoulder yet only by the brutal onslaught of his shaking motion. Minos found his footing, but the pressure of both paws holding his full weight on the injured side of his body was too much for him to manage. He leaned away from the inflamed wound, trying to get away from every ounce of hurt. It followed him, but his shifted weight made a significant difference. The other was wavering as well, but his movements were still quick and agile. Minos stood his ground, a snarl fueled by the pain accenting his face. The blood dressed his muzzle along side the raised and wrinkled lips, teeth and mouth coated.

His shoulder hurt too much for him to advance. And he would only give the appearance that he was still fit enough to fight in the hopes that the other would back down and run. He growled, snapping his jaws but did not move from the solid position that he held, unsure if he would stumble or not.



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#9
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He was not merciless. Despite all of Patriot's best efforts, Snake refused to be so. He believed in second chances (because he was living his own) and he believed in removing others from war through injury, not death. So when he noticed the fighting spirit fading from the white wolf through the pain of his own injury, he actually slacked off. The Dahlian leant away from his attack and he did as well, disengaging his jaws and slipping back a few paces. He dedicated his mind to staring down the wolf, keeping it on the fight still -- the second it wandered to anything else, the pain would come at him just as it was this wolf. For now it was buzzing angrily in the back of his mind, an upset beehive behind a removable partition.


The wolf's bloodied teeth exposed, growling, but Snake did not respond. His face was emotionally dead, eyes blank and staring. But it was like such with canines; some were vocal about their aggression, others shared their warnings through silence and body language. And that was what the coyote had. He kept himself low to the ground, favoring his uninjured right side, but solid. His tail flicked and his breathing, though quick, was regular.


He didn't say anything, but his eyes were speaking for him. He gave the white Dahlian a choice -- attack now in his pained state, and Snake would have to defend himself. He would kill in defense. Or the wolf could turn and flee, to promise to fight another day.


Either way, Snake was confident. And confidence was vital in combat.

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#10
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His life was seeping through the wounds that he had suffered, draining out onto the Dahlia ground. He was not the fighter that his alpha might have wished for. But if Minos knew what Haku's real plan had been he would know that he was playing the part just fine. Whether he lived or died was no concern to his leader, but it was a concern to Minos. He had fought for his life at every turn, even if the other had not threatened to take it Minos had still pleaded for it. Begging was not something that he would do here, but his instincts were not clouded like the rest. He had already bypassed what his body had wished, and attacked the coyote on sight without engaging on the normal animal-like rituals of sizing one another up and giving aggressive displays.

But he did not want to die, and he was beyond thinking about himself before the well being of the pack. His shoulder hurt in a way he had never hurt before. Even the bite that Haku had given him was not as harsh as the one the coyote had. Minos leaned backwards on his hind paws, shoulder screaming as he twisted and turned to run. If the other chased he would stand and fight again, but there was nothing that Minos could gather from inside to give reason to attack the tan canine once again. He had nothing to gain, he had no true vendetta for such a thing was for a creature that thought more highly and less instinctively then Minos. His gait was off, and with each use of his injured leg he limped significantly. His pride didn't even stop him from tucking his tail low and between his hind legs. Minos had never belonged here, as so he retreated like the omega he had been born to be.



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#11
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He was not ignorant of what Minos felt. Snake's resistance to pain was not natural, it was trained through months. And though that might not seem like that long a time, he was only a little over a year old. More than half of his life had been spent in New Haven, which meant that it had been spent fighting for every second. Foxhound had wounded him to the bone once or twice, as he had done to his brother in turn. It was excruciating, and there was no way he could continue to fight if he knew what was good for him. Thus Snake allowed him his choice, a humble retreat or a prideful attack.


Snake believed that the wolf made the right choice. He reared back like a horse, flinging himself away as quickly as his injury would allow. Snake watched him go, making sure that he was not playing any tricks. But when he was assured that the Dahlian had retreated from the battle, Snake disengaged from that one encounter and looked about, ready to aid whomever he could…


And when the fires of war had died down, he withdrew from Dahlian soil with the rest of the attack party. He came to the fires burning in his home, chilling his heart. The pain was emerging now like a beast woken from hibernation, in anger. Snake was pained physically and internally. He didn't think he could even consider this a victory.

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