[SRP] Bad Blood [Sigrun x Sjurd]

[oo Ded]

The air was thick and humid. Sigrun could feel the moisture settling into her fur and she tucked her chin to her chest. It was cold. The air in her chest was bitter and sharp.

This was the place.

The lioness had crept around the edges of the pride for a while now. Individuals had come and gone and Sigrun had made a point to stay out of sight. She was waiting for someone in particular.

It hadn't taken her long to learn of the Stormborn. Her mother had known the name of her assailant. Of her dauhter's father. She knew a name, and she knew the name of the pride. Sigrun didn't know what it was the lion looked like. She only knew stories of his actions. Somewhere within her she felt as though she would recognize him when she saw him.

So she sat outside the pridal borders. She sat and she waited, her breath deep and her spirit determined.  

[oo Ded]

Most of the time, now, Sjurd found himself alone. He would tag along with some band once every now and then, when the urge to venture forth took him. He may have ventured beneath some other captains but his alliance remained with Bruten, even if it had been a long while since the two had gone a'viking together.

There had been days past when they would go out regularly. Days when a blinding red fury overtook the reaver. Days when they would go with the proclaimed intention of bringing back food or thralls, but would instead only seek bloodshed.

Those days had passed. It had been a long while since he'd seen Bruten. Still, something within him ached sometimes. He would wake from sleep with teeth gnashing and claws unsheathed, both seeking flesh.

It was one of those mornings that drove the reaver to the edges of the pride. Half to let the cool emptiness sooth his mind, half in hopes that there would be something there... something that he could sink his teeth into. On occasion he would simply push the thoughts from his mind. He would walk the pridal lands sporting a cheeky grin on his face and talking with a silver tongue to those around him. Most of the time he could simply forget the thirst that lingered deep within him.

This was not one of those times.  

[oo Ded]

Sigrun could have simply found her father and have him claim her as his blood. That was hardly what she wanted, though. Sig didn't want to just be taken in. Pitied by a father who made her blood boil. She hardly knew if she even wanted to stay in this place. She wanted to see him. She the lion that was responsible for all she had known. She wanted to see him, and she wanted to fight him.

The opportunity presented itself sooner than she would have expected. He was, in fact, the first lion that she saw approaching what she knew as being the border of the pride. How fortuitous. Or perhaps he was on to her? The thought made her stomach uneasy so she pushed it far, far away.

For a few long moments she just watched him. There was no way she was lucky enough to happen on him this quickly, right? Her gut clenched and she studied him. The moon markings. The clouded legs. The pale blue color her mother had described. This had to be, right? There was no way everyone in this pride looked that way (that would make one hell of a job for her, so she sure hoped not).

He didn't seem like a monster. Not at first glance, anyway. But there was something, there. Something she could faintly pick out. It was something in the way he walked. His steps were forward. Driven. Like he was after something. Like he was hungry.

The lioness waited patiently and, admittedly, with an amount of nervousness that certainly wasn't zero. She waited for the lion to pace close to where she had been tucked away, hopeful that he wasn't catching her scent—the wind was in her favor, so that was unlikely—and that he wouldn't barrel straight into her hiding spot. She thanked the gods when his path gave a narrow tangent to where she had been lurking. She waited for her opportunity, then she lunged.

He couldn't say exactly what was on his mind. Whatever it was, it was a distant memory when he was suddenly ambushed. Everything was a flurry of white and green as a body met his with full force. He felt claws in his shoulders and he unsheathed his own, an angry growl leaving his maw.

The lioness had come at him full force, not with a blow to the back or side but straight on. He recognized that it was a lioness—there was no mane and her frame was smaller than his, so it was an ambitious move. One that he might commend when he wasn't fighting.

He certainly didn't recognize her, by sight or by smell. Then again, he didn't really have time to process the situation. Sjurd pushed his weight forwards and the lioness gave way beneath him. As he pushed forwards in an attempt to pin her down, he found himself caught off guard by her speed. The white and green lioness had shifted to the side out of the way of his attack and sprung at him again, this time aiming for his side.

It was partially due to the surprise of her attack, and partially due to a choice in attack points that Sigrun managed to bring the lion down. A lunge to his knees send his legs out beneath him and Sjurd toppled to the ground. Sigrun was quickly atop him, pinning him down with claws bared and teeth ready.

"Fine, fine, you got me," Sjurd conceded. "Though unconventionally," he grumbled, narrowing his eyes to peer at the lioness, "I grant you entry to the Stormborn."

"Entry isn't what I'm after," the lioness spat back, gnashing her teeth at him.

"Then what is it that you're after?" He returned, a brow raised.

The fact that he didn't recognize her made her blood boil. "Repentance," she seethed, dismounting though she kept her muscled stayed at the ready. "For a beautiful emerald lioness from the jungle. Whose life you stole."

"An emerald…" his voice trailed off and, finally, he looked the lioness over. The cloud and moon markings sure were familiar. As was that vibrant green tone. "Oh. ….oh." The memories returned to him in one revelation after another. First, of the lioness this one spoke of. Truly a gem. That meant that she must be his daughter. His eyes narrowed as the third realization came to him. She was his daughter, truly. And she hadn't come for niceties. "Oh."

His lip curled. Well, this wasn't ideal. But she seemed feisty, to say the least. "Come with me," he gave, his tone rough and grizzled. "You've earned entry. Let's talk."

She didn't want entry. She didn't want this place. But she didn't have much a choice now, did she? And something deep inside her felt some sort of pull. So she couldn’t say for sure what it was that made her compliant. What it was that made her follow him. But she did.

(Total WC: 1224)