Stance for stance the women squared off, electricity zapping the air around them with deadly volts as the air thickened with the tension. Namid could have laughed at the smaller woman’s attempt to make herself look bigger, which only, in her mind, made her look like an aggravated cotton ball. That was, if she wasn’t so absolutely completely pissed off. Never before had she been so angry, and there had been plenty of instances in her life where she’d had the right to snap. At that moment in time, the Star Dancer seemed to be practically vibrating with fury. It flowed through her body, infiltrated her bones and left her shaking. Her teeth pulled back likewise to the dove colored fae, a growl rumbling from her own throat. "Then why don't you revoke it princess. Oh wait, you can't. This isn't your doomed troupe to call the shots in. You're not the leader!" She’d prodded, all but verbally asking for her pelt to be skinned.
It was in that moment that all the moments that she could have snapped but didn’t came to mind. The images of her family being carted off to who knew where, images and feelings of being absolutely, aggravatingly alone, of being called names and feeling absolutely weak in times when she wanted to feel strong.
It was in that moment that the gentle woman finally exploded
A snarl ripped from her throat and in a flash of silver she had lunged forward at the smaller woman. Her jaws snapped and her pupils dilated, ears pinned against her skull as she aimed straight for the face and neck of the infuriating Primrose. With any luck, her teeth would sink into the scruff of the other and allow her momentum carried weight to pull her to the ground. There, she meant to rake her once pure claws across the skin of her opponent, holding her jaws close to the throat of the she-wolf with wildly panting breaths puffing from her maw.