Dead Empress Backwater i like girls with degrees, i like girls on killing sprees

The snow that came down had turned the world of Isla upside down once more. She did her best to pretend it didn't bother her, that her nose and paw pads definitely did not burn when she walked too long. Nope, not her.

So she suffered like she wanted to as she dug at the frozen earth. Beneath its cold casing laid what she had hoped for.

Food.

Glutton she had become with the cold, she gave no thought to who may have 'dibs' on this meal. Nor how much of it she ate. Which meant she began the all too easy process of dining upon the cold, stony meat of an old rabbit. Loudly. Messily. Not exactly the image of royalty and poise that her great-grandmother had built this family upon.

Asmund's habits had yet to change, his routines and choices still dictated by fear. His stomach churning with hunger, this was the first time he'd been driven out of cover in two days. As he sought out that scrap of hare he'd managed to catch and keep hidden, he was the picturesque opposite of the Backwater princess and her gluttonous ways. Thin and ragged, looking more like the orphan he was than a pack wolf.

She warmed the meat and gristle with her indulgent feasting, and the smell hit him moments before she came into view. His heart began to race and anger flashed through him, hot and searing. His fangs bared as he stepped closer.

"That's mine."

(This post was last modified: Dec 06, 2022, 10:39 PM by Asmund.)

S for light swears this post and also sorry she's so awful lmfao

He bared fangs, she returned the favor. Now she stood protectively over the meal as her hackles raised. The picture perfect image of a royal bitch.

No. It's. Not.

And she expected him to do nothing about it. Bedraggled orphan that the boy was. It was a shame such looks had been wasted upon such a poor boy. A boy that, Isla felt, deserved nothing. Not even the food she plucked at nor the bones she would leave behind when she was done. What exactly had he done to deserve being here now that his mom was gone?

Her tail arched, daring him to go on. Wondering if there might be a spine somewhere in that sad body.

Asmund didn't accompany the others often, but when he did they rarely mistreated him. If anything, they gave him too much pity and coddling, suffocating him in the memory of his mother and all that had been lost. The other children were different, spoiled he thought. Isla showed this now, asserting herself with a show of dominance that plucked at his instinctual fears and urged him to cower. It was his, though. He had even earned it. The cramping in his belly only further urged him to defy this injustice.

First his ears had fallen and his tail curled between his legs, but then a fire lit in his eyes and his hackles began to bristle as a low, thrumming growl seeped from his lungs.

"What, like you need it?" he shot back bitterly, beryl eyes flickering over her hefty frame rudely. He had a very limited amount of tools with which to fight back, but he wouldn't shy from exhausting them all if needed.

She cackled, a spittle-flying sound from her throat.

You don't even deserve it. A paw lifted to stamp down on the rabbit body, smashing it into the earth thoroughly just because she could. Maybe it wouldn't stop him from wanting to eat it but it would most certainly send a message. A visual representation of what she thought about him, about his status, his belongings.

Nothing.

A snarl built up now. Some part of her wondered if she should make the first physical move before he could, but where was the fun in that? Clearly he was prepared for some sort of verbal spar first.

His eyes widened in a flash as she stepped atop his meal, essentially spitting on him and his efforts in ways much worse than any of her words could manage. The flames flared within once more, reaching a level of red hot that he wasn't sure he had experienced before. It was like another animal was inside of him, thrashing violently and demanding that he rub her face into the meat she was defiling until her lungs filled with the gore of it.

Asmund tried to breathe instead, chest practically heaving with the effort. Bedraggled and infuriated, he was in this moment every bit his father's son. If only he knew the connection there, perhaps he would have succeeded in holding himself back.

Instead, the emotions broke their dam and he lunged for Isla's muzzle instead, aiming to wrap his jaws around it and make her sorry she had done this to him.

There was what she wanted!

If the cold had been a burning sensation, his teeth became fire too. At her muzzle. Soft, thin skin breaking in a way it never had before. For all of her showing, Isla had never been subject to such physical ways. So something awoke inside her too. Ugly and garish.

He could keep her muzzle, she sought to shove herself further into him (even if it meant more ripped skin upon her beautiful face) and topple his bony body. She imagined treating him much the same like the rabbit; smashing him into the earth, rubbing him dirty like he deserved.

Asmund surprised himself when his teeth met their mark, but the feeling of it was good, satisfying in a way he hadn't yet experienced. As he felt her skin open under his influence, he knew that it had to be painful and that was like funneling all the horrible feelings building up inside of him onto Isla instead. Fooling himself into thinking that he was transferring his suffering rather than multiplying it.

The triumph didn't last. She pushed back, and while it caused her more damaged and he began to taste blood, she also forced his jaws further apart and gagged him. He tripped over his own paws shuffling backward, uncertain where to go from here when he clearly would not be able to drag her around the way he'd wanted.

She was stronger, capable of more momentum, and she began to get her way. Panic swelled alongside the anger when he realized just how quickly the tables could turn, how she could just as easily cause his death right here and now as the monster that had broke into their pack's territory. Desperate for this not to happen, he kicked and bit at whatever he could reach, a skeletal tasmanian devil hellbent on surviving.

Her face bled freely, in a way that made it look worse than it really was. Granted it was still bad. For the moment it did sear and weep as it met the cold air, free from the jaws of the boy. Still he kicked and scratched at her. His teeth and claws against her breastbone for a moment and her brain fired off a million warning signs as pain welled there too.

So she continued to use her size and health against him. Anything to get him to stop and realize that his place was below her, in every way.

Jaws agape, she lunged for his scraggly face. Sickly, for a moment, she wondered about the difference between biting a wolf and a rabbit. Then wondered if she would find out such a thing soon.

No matter the sort of wounds he managed to inflict, superficial or otherwise, she did not shy away from her own intentions. Asmund grew louder in his snarling, hoping that maybe @Viorel or any of the others would come to his rescue as they had before. It was like fighting the ocean, trying to keep his head above water in a hurricane. It simply was out of his paws now, and he fell beneath hers.

Bursts of violent growling dissolved into yelps, the desire to hurt fizzling away in light of his wish to stay alive. He didn't want to end up like his mother, or even the man that had harmed her, viciously maimed. Asmund still batted and snapped, but his focus was on getting away. The first opening he had to, he would try to escape her altogether.

What other choice did he have? He wasn't going to win this, and he wasn't getting his meal back. He would have to accept these things; for now.