Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.
He watches her with the same intensity that a viper might watch a stranger; like a dius watches the hunting pack that skirts around the herd. Unmoved. Unflinching. A single, stuttered step might have sent her on the hunt, the hunger for blood’s metallic tang as palpable as desperation for water to wet one’s tongue. But Bjorn remains unmoved, unyielding…. Fearless. Those pale blue eyes that long ago, gazed at her with such affection it caused her heart to burn, now burn with a fire of their own. There is no love, no adoration in his eyes now, only ice.
His perked ears disappear beneath the thick mantle of his wind-knotted mane at her words. Those irresistible lips that had once tenderly caressed her skin now peel back in reply to taunting tones, revealing blunt, yellowing teeth in warning. ’...you would pine for me….’ his scornful reply causes her own sculpted head to lift in defiance. Now it is her turn to flash a threatening smile, her ashen lips crinkled with hatred. Hatred at words with such truth behind them. Words that she refused to admit even to herself. Despite the bite of their encounters, despite his constant abandonment and flaunting his “cherished” mares before her… Nyimara has always known one thing to be true. Bjorn always returns. Nyimara always knows that their paths will cross again, whether for the gods own sick amusement or genuine fate. A smile, sultry and hungry crosses her delicate features now. ”You have always found your way back to me, one way or the other.” she purrs, her voice soft and deadly as a double-edged blade pointed to his heart. ”They will never be able to satisfy you…. Never be your equal. Not like me.” she coos, pale lashes fluttering over glittering black eyes. She takes another calculated step forward, ”A delicious sort of torture that you cannot hide behind in the lies you weave. The lies you tell yourself.” she whispers, "I know the real you. I have seen him time and time again when you let your guard fail." she taunts, laughter dancing in her eyes. Paper-thin nostrils flare as hungrily she drinks in his scent, the nearness of his rugged body and the memories that arose with them. Memories of equal passion and lust-filled hunger. But as quickly as it begins, so does the tone change as the beast parries her coy remarks a weapon of his own. Skillfully, he deflects her blade and swings his own towards her throat. A blow that hit far more accurately than she wanted to admit. Mahogany flutes disappear beneath the silken canopy of her silver mane. ’What in the hell makes you think I would want to see you?’ The question alone cuts into her flesh, causing her skin to shudder at the fierceness of his biting tone. The smile across her ashen velveteens falters, replaced with a snarl that echoes from somewhere deep within her breast. ’You have been a constant source of agony…. Of heartache…You are the reason my family is scattered to the winds.” he snarls, closing what remained of the finite space between them. He lists her ‘atrocities’ as he sees them. Siobhan, of his other lovers… of their children. Each listed with disdain and hatred as though the very mention of their shared past brought them once more to life. Painful for him, pleasure to her. Unknowingly he was removing the battleaxe he had sliced into her heart. Siobhan. The mention of the mare’s name sparks her own fury. It was that damned witch that started all of this. It was Siobhan who Bjorn gave his world to, whom he took back his heart to place at her feet. It was Siobhan, that he stole Nyimara’s hard-won queenship with intention to share. It was Nyimara who suffered, as he forgot of their beachside strolls and instead replaced it with the red woman at his side. It was Siobhan to whom he gave his tender embraces and adoring words. No longer did Nyimara matter. No longer did her heart find itself carefully guarded by his protective embrace. She had been cast aside, again and again and again, by the one whom she had given her everything forOne by one the memories dredge from the abyss her anger and resentment. Jealousy and loneliness rear their ugly heads as fury burns behind her obsidian eyes. A scream of betrayal seers her lungs as the lithe woman reaches to bite the whiskered lips she had once dreamed would again caress her skin. Fluted lobes remain buried beneath the curling tendrils of her pale mane, her lacy forelock splaying across the flat of her brow. ”No!” The command resonates from deep within her concave breast heated by his proximity and the passion of opposing convictions. ”You did this Bjorn!” she growls, no longer edging the venom in her words with honeyed seduction. ”You abandoned your family time and time again. Abandoned me. You left, chasing after the next pretty face, and left me alone and forgotten. You did this to yourself!” she snarls her unusually long whipcord lashing audibly against supple flanks. ”I became nothing to you and so I simply returned the favor. I stole it all away from you.” she finishes, her voice trailing in a deadly whisper. ”You created this monster. Why start fearing it now?”Once more the deadly purr lingers in her words as she presses against him, savoring the feel of his muscular shoulder against her own. Fearless of the repercussions of her touch, she stretches her velvet maw across his smoky blue back. Greedily, she inhales the lustfully the scent of winter and ocean that clings to his skin and savors the taste as it fills her senses.