[FIN] Still here? (Nemanja & Mittere)

[mouselet]

Some days had passed, Mittere spent them in training, teaching, plotting and planning. There hadn't been any real news of the Nergui in a while, but the Master Warrior was not going to allow her vigilance and that of her Warriors to relax in the meantime. Hence she was patrolling the borders yet again. She was trying to focus on the pride, and not her family. Not to mention she had to wonder if that damned god was still lying around.

As she came over the rise, her blue eyes lighted on a now familiar pile of black and white fur and feathers.  

[Uta]

The large beast was indeed where he had last been found, lying in a heap of feathers and fur. The only thing different was the large snake that was coiled loosely around his horns, tucked partially in his mane, as if some sort of crown. There was also the subject of his arm, which had stained his leg crimson. If its slow healing bothered him, if the pain caused him irritation, it did not show.

Still, he appeared slightly more alert.

His spiked tail tip swished every now and then, and though lying he had his head held up. Nemanja heard the softest of movements, but didn't bother to turn or investigate. There really was no need. Any who crossed his path either lingered and rotted, or quickly grew bored (or aggravated, such as in Mittere's case) and left.

It was of no concern to him, either way.
 

[mouselet]

The positioning was the same but the specifics of limbs had changed slightly. Not to mention that the rodents she'd noted last time were now corpses. As they hadn't been moving the last time she'd seen them alive, the lioness supposed that they had died of starvation. It was odd though, as if the god had somehow caused them to lose interest in moving.

Her mind skipped over the few moments where she hadn't pushed, verbally or physically, though she normally would have.

Mittere came right up to the god, noting that he didn't seem to have done anything to help the wound she'd given him. The foreleg was bleeding sluggishly, and it seemed like he hadn't even bothered to lick it clean. She frownd. The pink lioness might not care how dirty she got, but wound care was essential to a warrior's career.  

[Uta]

As Mittere approached, the snakes tongue flicked a bit, but for the most part Nemanja stayed still. He knew who it was, recognized her scent, and certainly caught the color of her coat in his peripheral vision. There were other lions out and around at times, but thus far only one who had such a vibrant coat. The fact that this was now the third time they had met was peculiar. Not many often sought out the black and white god. . . .

As she approached, he did allow himself to turn and regard her. His tail tip gave another small thump, waiting to see what she might do. She was covered in scars, and always looked more than a little upset and irritable. Still, this time he moved his paw forward so she might have better access. Not to groom it though. ". . . have you returned to fight me once more?" As if the last had been much of a battle at all.

 

[mouselet]

Blue eyes narrowed. "You want me to fight you? For real?" Her voice held a hard edge in it, and even her most advanced students would be surreptitiously edging away. Only a complete and utter idiot could mistake the threat implicit in her tone.

Of course, she had a few reasons (from her view) to be ready to shred this god. He had no business being here, he refused to leave (or was incapable of doing so) and there was something about him that was fouling up all the wildlife nearby.

Actually, the lioness was somewhat afraid to fight him for real. Gods had powers. What would happen to her if she actually killed him? Even if he insisted on lying in Kitwana lands like a pile of fur and feathers, there was still something mystical about him, being a god, and even Mittere was not immune to the sort of awe that evoked.

She was just very good at ignoring those feelings.  

[Uta]

She was angry, she was threatening, she was . . . meh. His gaze never wavered, even as she appeared to take his words as a challenge. To battle. To fight. Nemanja'janan was usually too apathetic to actually move, to legitimately cross some foe.

But, on that same token, he wasn't weak. He wasn't defenseless. And he certainly wasn't easy prey. He was the god of Apathy, yes, but that did mean he was Apathy Incarnate. He had enough life in him to keep living, and had enough care to actually be considerate (sometimes) of those he crossed.

He had enough care for his friend, Veri, to keep an eye out on her snake. He had enough care to know that, very soon, it would be wise for him to move away from his current lands. To fight with this lioness, to not fight, it mattered not to him. Unsheathing his claws, albeit slowly, the large lion slowly, ever so slowly, lumbered to his feet.

". . . it matters not to me." Moving might do him so good, after all. The snake that had settled upon him slowly slithered down and away, not wanting to actually get caught up in such a thing. He would rest in his coils and observe. Anything could happen at this point.

 

[mouselet]

She had seen the god twitch and move slightly before. She'd never actually seen him move. Nor stand. As he was now. One back leg twitched, not a muscle spasm, but an abortive movement. The pink lioness had almost taken a step backward, but at the last moment refused to give in to the shock.

It was a shock, to see the god unsheath his claws and stand. The male was quite large, especially to Mittere. Her personality was so intense, most forgot that she was a bit smaller than the average lioness.

She refused to be cowed. Her own claws flicked out smoothly and her tail twitched in anticipation.

Still, she did not attack outright. There was far too much she did not know about this god, and what he could or could not do.  

[Uta]

Standing at his full height, he was impressive. . . in a . . . not-quite-so-cleaned manner. His added plush of fur, his extra-thick mane (albeit it tangled and disheveled) only helped to add to the fact that was actually quite large. Very large. For a moment he allowed his wings to give a half-hearted stretch, before folding them awkwardly against his side.

If Mittere wished to fight, than he would do so. Otherwise, he would stand there and wait for her to run off or speak or do whatever. He really didn't have an opinion or preference. He could just as easily collapse back down if she turned away from him. She wanted to fight, he could grant her such a thing.

So he stood there, and waited.

Despite it all, his ears did p***k, and there was a tension in his muscles as he did prepare to give her some sort of battle. How long had it been, really? He could fight. . .he just didn't care to. But maybe this day it would change.
 

[mouselet]

This wasn't like her. The thought struck Mittere suddenly as she looked up at the big black and white lion. Winged lion. God. Here she was, standing before a god, ready to fight. This wasn't like her at all. She never hesitated. Not unless if tactics called for it, which they certainly didn't in a one-on-one faceoff.

A soft noise emanated from the pink lioness, escalating into a growl and then a full-out roar as Mittere wordlessly declared that whatever force was attempting to pacify her, she was having none of it. The Master Warrior launched herself straight for the god, claws and fangs outstretched.

Perhaps not the most advanced opening move. But damn it felt good.  

[Uta]

Nemanja made no movement as the pink lioness' snarl turned in to a roar. So she was declaring battle, so she was going to actually attack. Well, such was the way of things. So it was indeed time to fight, to prepare. . .

It felt foreign to Nemanja, but it wasn't something he was intimidated by, nor was it something he was not prepared for. While he didn't often unsheath his claws, while he rarely found any desire to use such energy for battle, that didn't mean he couldn't. He was no stranger to a fight, the scars on his body proved that much! But here and now . . . .well. . . . . so be it.

He would fight this pink mortal. But he would not cry if something were to happen. He would not hold back, just as he was suspicious she would not, either.

When she launched for him, the god chose his defense. Lowering his head, he prepared himself to take her hit, but she would need to beware his two horns. . . and the four that were nestled within his mane. His wings and tail were ready, prepared to respond. . . .

Apathy was a defensive emotion; it made sense his battle tactics would be more defensive as well.  

[mouselet]

His mane was thick and her paws were nearly buried before she felt her claws finally rip fur and flesh. Her warcry took on a few interesting undertones as the lioness encountered the horns invisibly buried in the ungroomed mass the god wore as a mane. Still, what was a bit more pain to Mittere?

Her apprehension about fighting a god turned to disdain as she took in his defensive posture. You couldn't win a fight by cowering and hoping your opponent ran away! The lioness yanked her paws down, hissing as one pad opened wide on a horn, and changed her angle of attack - aiming for the soft underbelly.  

[Uta]

There was pain.

There was hurt.

He could feel her claws scratch deep against his skin, her claws ripping against the top of his head and the back of his neck and shoulders. It was an unusual feeling really, and it almost was inspiring really. She had so much passion, it would be a shame to waste it. . . wouldn't it?

She wanted to fight so badly. Why should he care if he got torn up? Why should he care to ignore her?

. . . . fine.

He might as well. The last time he had allowed himself to get beaten. So perhaps this time he might wish to mix things up. It didn't matter to him what he did, and the pink lioness truly did seem to want to get him involved. But that meant effort. Movement. Argh. Well, if that was what she wanted, he would at least have to try.

As the lioness pulled away, this time turning to aim towards his stomach, Nemana was quite suddenly moving. The lion jerked to the side, hoping to dodge her attack for his stomach. To his advantage, he whipped his tail around, hoping to catch her off guard with the four spikes that lined its tip. So what if he had an advantage over size and physical defenses. It wasn't as if the pink lioness hadn't known what she'd been up against.
 

[mouselet]

She'd been tail-whipped before. It could hurt, but that was a lesser pain compared to what claws and fangs could do. Unfortunately, no one had ever told her that gods could have spikes on their tails, which gouged her side, opening parallel red streaks.

Inwardly, Mittere smiled. She'd managed to provoke the god into action. That made this entire fight worthwhile. Now to focus on the more important part - winning.

One clawed paw reached out to trap the god's tail. The other the Warrior held up as a deterrent while she maneuvered herself for the next attack.  

[Uta]

Nemanja found his tail caught by a pink paw, and though he did half-heartedly attempt to get it back, he found it quite stuck. So be it. If the lioness wanted him so badly, he might as well grant her such a thing. It was only the gentlemanly thing to do, wasn't it?

. . . . but first . . . .

With the lioness at his side, he did the only thing that made sense. Snapping open his wings, he meant full well to smack her with the closest one. His greasy, large, oily feathers weren't perhaps the most productive in fligth . . .but they were large and strong wings, as they did have to carry his mass and weight.

Perhaps that would give her something to deal with while he . . . .considered what he might next wish to do.

Fighting. Meh. What was the point? This was all -- to Nemanja -- a terribly boring affair.
 

[mouselet]

She'd been about to make her move when the god opened his wings wide. Damnit, she'd forgotten about those! After all, she'd never fought a lion with wings before. The lioness managed to duck mostly out of the way, only catching a buffet on the side of her head. Still, that put her in perfect position to spring attack the male.

Which she did, this time aiming for the small of his back, between the two large wings. Maybe not the best location on reflection, but where else would she be able to get a good grip?