The lungfuls of air that the slender stallion breathed in and out with each steady inhalation and exhalation were irkingly condensed. Although the teen's bloody form looked immensely stylish, awe inspiring and spooky while his muscled frame twisted in and out of vision when concealed by the swirling white stuff, he disliked the heavy feeling of the particles as they slipped down his airways. Quirino was vain, yes, but not so much that he would compromise his fighting strength in order to look handsome. Of course, what he meant by handsome was 'not so handsome as he usually was'... It was a sturdily and well-proven fact that, in his own, not-so-humble opinion, he was more than enough of a looker, even without any added special effects that nature might throw in for the sake of it. Not that he minded special effects, of course. Fools did not always notice the striking imagery that his pristine, crimson pelt and striking near-black eyes under normal circumstances, but even the most lunk-headed of wolven kind could see what a fine specimen his bloodlines had created when he was surrounded by eerier elements.
The prince had just completed a jog around the western border, something which he viewed as his sacred obligation. While the majority of his family was absent, it was up to him and his sister Cade to keep things running smoothly, and since he knew that it would be utterly impossible to depend on his useless sibling, he found himself working double-time to prevent the whole of Blossom Forest from knowing that the pack he was in was currently depleted of a large part of its fighting-force. Because of his responsible nature, the young thing found himself unable to resist the urges to defend the borders seamlessly. So, despite the annoying atmosphere, he kept going, cutting through the swathes of mist with a dutiful detachment of expression that well-suited the dreadful monotony of the moment. Quirno couldn't exactly smell anything due to the heavy, close particles of dihydrogen monoxide that kept zooming up and coating his nasal passageways, which was why he did not noticing the approaching challenger's heady cologne or even notice that an adversary was nearing.
He had just finished the mornings work and was preparing to settle down in a small cave he had discovered when a loud, arrogant howl brought his paws to a halt. It was formal, which gave the wolf a plus 2 points in Qui's system, but the varg who had voiced it lacked class. The young teen was aware that no pack member would step up to the challenge due to the events brought about by the last time a threat had encroached itself upon the dark pine forest, so he didn't bother to wait about and see if anyone would show up. To be terribly honest, the muscled wolfet had a touch too much confidence in himself after the last coward had run off, and was eager for the glory that winning another fight could possibly get him. He wanted Saladin, his grandfather and the patriarchal leader of the Satanican clan, to offer him praise for his valiance and his sheer courage in the face of not one, but two opponents. That wasn't the only factor in his eagerness to accept the challenge. He had some personal issues with his sister that a brave move such as this would instantly clear up. If he won this fight, she would be forced to accept that he was an all-around better pack warrior than she was, not to mention a more experienced fighter.
With these arrogant contemplations swirling in the smug catacombs of his twisted mind, the ruby vampire turned his paws toward where he surmised the extremely orotund and more than a bit pretentious song had been projected from. Although the young wolf had yet to fill out or even grow to his maximum potential, he was still a rather baronial creature; his stance was proud, not a hint of timid nature apparent in his bold, swinging stride. He still was filled with irritation about the thick mist, but, at the moment, he didn't mind overly much, since it would help him to make a dramatic entrance, something that he always enjoyed. Seeing the world through his own, rosy-tinted glasses of naivety was something that, depending on who asked was either an aspect of Qui that was good, or an aspect that was bad. The little stag had no personal idea that he was naive – he knew about blood, death, pain and sex more than most wolves his age due to family issues, but he had no idea about betrayal, emotional sadness or unrequited love and, in that sense, was just like other young ones his age.
However, his internal strength was certainly at least a bit different than those his age, as was his shocking pelt color. Yes, no matter how you looked at it, the adolescent wolf was a true soldier in the making, and at the moment, he was bent on a single mission – the annihilation of a foe who dared to threaten his mothers throne while she was away. Only a true craven would challenge an alpha who wasn't present out of the cowardly hope that they would win the pack by default. The rankless teen felt his hackles raise and his lips curl back involuntarily as a surge of ire overtook his bodily functions. Luckily, the male had undergone a bit of practise on how to quickly quell the tide of his emotions from dealing with his insufferable sister, so he was able to shut off the tide of anger before it began to affect his decisions. Despite this, he didn't fully wipe his palate of emotion. Rather, he let the barest hint of a cocky smirk, one full of arrogant derision, pull lightly at his crimson-kissers.
He was silent, wraith-like in his fluid motions as he twisted around the last bramble-patch and stepped dominantly into the bungler's view. Cocking his head to the side, the boy surveyed his opponent, noticing his strong build and muscled form, but doing his best to not internalize the fact that the older fighter had significant amount of experience backing him up. Sheer, inherited talent and a natural aptitude for battle would assist the juvenile against the veteran, or so said juvenile hoped. After arching a nonexistent brow in his opposition's general direction, the overbearing youngster sashayed dominantly over the border and vanished into the eerie forest, his feral nature and killing intent evident in his motions and demeanor.
. "Talks.Like.This."
ooc: I will post the rules of the fight at QC. Tiger has agreed to be the judge.
{come, dance with us devils tonight}
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