“Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me!”
Unfortunately, the femme still stood upon the terra when Serris pulled back from his last attack. She had managed to dodge his ivories completely, ensuring that her nape would stay in one piece for at least a bit longer. However, the disappointment of the charcoal brute’s last attack was matched by the satisfaction of his third. His charge was easily detected by the mistress – no surprise there, as he had meant to be blatantly obvious about it – and she dodged forward just enough to land his bloody talons on each end of her torso. The direct force of his assault produced the effect he so desired as the girl was made to catch herself with her broken limb, no doubt triggering a new wave of pain stemming from the injured bone. His gaping maw found flesh and tore into it, feeling the buried crack of another white timber as warm crimson liquid dripped from his chin and frosted his muzzle with a deep rouge. Contentment surged through the Alpha at the sound and feel of it all, his nares drowning in the sticky, metallic scent. But soon it was time to pull away, and after his next failed lunge, Serris pulled back for good and awaited the opponent’s final charge.
His adversary paced around him briefly, the silver of her pelt obscured by patches of tinted brown, that dried life force clinging to every strand. It was unclear from which master the crusty fluid originated; it was all the same, in all creatures, afterall. The vixen lunged with great speed, but Serris was able to predict the movement of her silhouette, as her broken posterior limb and the fatigue of the battle started to wear on the demoness’ agility. Her target was calculated to be the base of his scruff where the thick ridge of that alabaster snake ran close to the surface. The dark knight knew very well he could not afford any type of damage to that vital area, so the wounded regal put all his strength into a dodge. Serris narrowed his eyes as he pulled back sharply, tucking his skull so that his chin brushed his chest ever so slightly, the whispering kisses of his fur almost ticklish upon his front. He used his powerful stilts to drag his skeleton backwards, as much as he could in the short time of her advance, front pistons bending slightly while the other pair folded beneath him. However, the self-dubbed “old” man kept his footing in the rear, knowing it would not be wise to seat himself completely. The final position was a sort of crouch, all vitals low, protected, and out of biting range. The effort brought the he-beast backwards and downwards simultaneously, its scope drastic enough that the offensive lupine flew harmless above his crown.
Serris’ deep stomach injury was not too happy at all the sudden movement, but the gash had not yet clotted, and therefore there was no greater bleeding than there would have been otherwise. On the other hand, the scrapes on his cheek had begun to scab, and the sudden movement of his cranium ripped open the bottom of these wounds, ushering forth a new tide of blood. The King ignored it all, burying the pain and stinging bitterness deep inside; it was a thing to be dealt with later, in the familiar confines of his pack.
The girl’s final attack came soon enough, her form rushing head-on at his own. Serris prepared for the oncoming attack, resigned to taking one last bit of damage since he could not dodge as drastically as he just had, all muscles tensing beneath his ebon shag. However, his exact plan of defense could not be formulated until she was nearly upon him, so the monarch waited with uncanny patience, staring those brutal fangs face on, a prideful defiance burning within his usually cool portals. The valkyrie pivoted at the last possible moment, a choreography Serris perceived soon enough to counter but not soon enough to block completely. His elbows unlocked and for an instant Serris was in a forward free-fall before the hessian commanded those joints to lock once more, mere inches above the damp terra. Another crouch, but one that did not compromise his ventral grievance as much. Thus, the incisors that were once searching for his ginglymus now found the meat of his shoulder. The muscles that lay there were slightly tense, as they still had to hold his bulk, but Serris had tried his best to command them to relax to reduce the damage he received. Regardless, the ess’ canines hit deep, and the midnight ruler was forced to drawn in a sharp, hissing breath to mask his pain. She thrashed and tore, opening skin and digging into flesh, but the amount of substance that padded that region of the body protected everything of importance. The area would be quite sore for a while, and his walking slightly impeded, but the long term effects were negligible.
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