[ P ] Hey, listen!

As the seconds ticked by, panic bloomed in his chest. He was genuinely worried for her but thankfully, she shifted and slowly started coming out of it. Suddenly her eyes blinked opened and she was staring up at him again. "There you are..." he murmured, offering what he thought might be a comforting smile. He opened his mouth to say something else but she quickly tumbled out of his arms, barking that she was fine. His head jerked upward, following her movements and noting her fearful gaze. Wait, why was she afraid?

He slowly came to a stand, realizing now their positions had changed. He found that panic from before settling back in as she stumbled backwards, towards his hiding place. "Wait, Lenora --" he started, but it was too late. She stumbled over his bag and fell back on her ass. "Fuck," he muttered as she discovered what he'd been hiding from her all along. The bag of drugs was all she would need to take his ass to jail. Nobody would believe him over her, a soldier. He could see it all playing out before his eyes as the silence between them lingered. She didn't say a fucking thing and it only made him more nervous. What was she thinking? He desperately wanted to know.

Delcan felt his paws begin to itch with the need to run before she could turn him in but they were still alone and for some reason he still didn't want to leave her here. What if she wasn't ok enough to make it back home safely? He didn't know why he gave two shits but he did.

"Lenora..." he said, his tone deep like he was warning her off her better judgment. "It's not... it's not what it looks like." he said. "It's not mine." It wasn't a lie, he didn't do that shit. Something about using your own supply and blah blah blah, his father said. Regardless it just wasn't his style, he was more of a drinker if he ever partook in anything. His gaze was pleading as he searched her eyes, looking for just a shred of pity in their depths.

He immediately became restless once he realized that she had seemingly found what he had almost hidden from her before. Even though she had asked him, he had lied right to her face, and this fact was leaving a sour taste in her mouth. So she remained silent as he stuttered through his words, speaking her name as if he was in any kind of position to warn her against what she had just figured out.

Her chin raised, eyes narrowing as they looked down at him.

"Not what it looks like?" she questioned, her voice caustic. What, did he think she was fucking stupid? "It's not mine," at this she couldn't help but laugh. She tucked the bag against her, her mind quickly thinking. On one hand, he had tried to help her. But on the other, he couldn't just walk away from being an obvious criminal.

But if it truly wasn't his? He didn't smell like a drug user... she had a pretty good nose for that. He smelled like alcohol, sure, but not any nefarious... substances beyond that. She studied his face, noting that he didn't seem to be entirely lying...

So he was a mule, then.

Lenora let out a snort, hating how this guy seemed to test her boundaries of morals and ethics so easily. All because he was nice on the eyes, too - she would need to work on that.

"You've lied to me," she stated then, mulling over her words, choosing them carefully. "You need to give me the full truth, now. And--" she squared her shoulders, removing herself from the bush while clutching the sack. "If you want this back, you'll need to give me something of equal value. Information, someone else to arrest, whatever." her eyes flickered across his face, and a small smile graced her features once again. "And if you ever fuck me over, I'll have a cell with your name on it... Declan." her memory had finally come back, and at least she knew his name. That would be enough to find him.

She swallowed, wondering if this was what Ryker would have done in this situation. She shoved the thought of her father far from her mind - it was no longer about being the good soldier, but the one who survived.

"Well?"

table by ferus, image by ashon, bg from unsplash

He didn't know how he was going to get out of this mess without hurting her. He was not a man like his father, he was not so willing to hurt women... even if it was to save his own skin. He could see the cogs working in her mind as she tried to figure out if he was telling the truth or not; as she tried to figure out whether she should arrest him not more likely but if she did he'd be put to death after being tried and with her snatching up the evidence there was no lying his way out of it. His jaw clenched, and popped. He felt discomfort from the sensation but continued to grind his teeth anyway.

As Lenora stepped forward, satchel in tow, she started to speak. She wanted the truth, or names, or something it seemed to avoid pinning him with this. She threatened him with a cell, but he knew it would be so much worse. And he knew that he couldn't tell her the truth either because that would be so much worse then death at the hands of the Crown. At least an execution would be quick. He'd seen what his dad did to guys that fucked him over. He didn't run shit for nothing, he knew what he was doing to instill just enough fear into his men that that fear turned into some kind of sick, twisted loyalty.

"Well?" she urged and he had to make a decision.

The seconds ticked by as he stared at her. He could probably take her if he wanted to but... he didn't want to.

"I can't tell you who I work for, he'll kill me." he said plainly, as if that information were obvious to anyone. "And I can't let you take me to jail. They'll kill me too." he added. He moved closer, his hackles raising behind him as he stared down his nose at her. "Where does that leave us?" he asked. It was foolish to hope she'd give him an out because of one moment shared beneath the stars. He wasn't a bad man, but he would be to save his life. There was a sort of pleading look in his eyes as he watched her, begging her silently: don't do this...

Rolling combat 1d20: 4
Poor - You barely hurt your opponent

It seemed she struck a nerve. As she spoke, he listened, though it was clear he was trying to devise a way out of this without giving her any of the things she asked for. Her attempt at blackmail failed as he denied her requests, his massive form stepping towards her threateningly as his earthy hackles raised.

In response, Lenora stepped back again, clutching the satchel as her lips curled back in response. She would not cow to his threat.

"where does that leave us?" he growls, and the silver fur spikes along the length of her spine.

"With no choice," she replied with a snarl, before she lunges forward to attack.

table by ferus, image by ashon, bg from unsplash

Rolling combat 1d20: 15
Competent - You deal a painful blow

Declan HP: 46

The different ways this could have played out scrolled through his mind and he wished any of those scenarios had happened instead of this. He wasn’t a guy that enjoyed fighting or hurting others; he simply did what he had to do to survive. He wasn’t like his father, who was sick in the fucking head if you asked Declan. But that was neither here nor there as she claimed they had no choice and lunged for him. He was quick enough to side step her attack, a frown on his handsome features as he narrowly avoided her. ”We always have a choice,” he said, though whether she would care to listen to him was another story.

He twisted his body after her, jumping at her back now to try and pin her down. He didn’t attempt to bite her yet because he still did not want to hurt her but if she came at him with those teeth again he might be forced to. If he managed, he’d try to subdue her as peacefully as possible. He wished she could understand why he couldn’t give her the information she asked for — it was do or die out here and he wasn’t about to offer up his own head or the heads of his family for nothing.

Rolling combat 1d20: 11
Fair - You hurt your opponent moderately

Frustration exploded within the red haze of her mind as he easily side stepped her attack. Rationally, she shouldn't be a surprised - he was obviously a criminal that had experience with street fighting, and she was a fresh soldier just graduated from the rank of cadet and given basic training.

However, Ryker was at the forefront of her mind as she tried to anticipate Declan's actions. It was the only way she'd get out of this scuffle on top.

But then he came at her, their sizes equal but his weight more formidable as his body collided with her own. A whoosh of air left her lungs as her back hit the ground and he stood above her, pinning her to the ground. A snarl ripped from her throat as she kicked her back legs into the soft underside of his belly, jaws chomping at the air in an attempt to catch his face.


HP: 50-15= 35

Rolling combat 1d20: 10
Fair - You hurt your opponent moderately

Declan HP: 35

As he pinned her to the ground, he aimed to subdue her and calm her down but it seemed she only grew more feral. She kicked at his stomach, clawing the underside like it were paper, and snapped at his face. He jerked his head back as he felt the sting of her teeth pierce his muzzle. Pain exploded at every point she made contact but all the while he just felt... sad. He didn't want things to end this way between them, far from it. But the inkling of anger welling up inside him at her obstinance was the only thing that kept him in place. "Stop this! I don't want to hurt you!" he growled, leering down at her as droplets of fresh blood dripped from his face.

He saw red drop down into her silvery fur and for a moment his mind went blank. He didn't often recede into his anger like his father, or his brother but perhaps that was what he needed to do now. He lashed out, attempting to snap his jaws around her muzzle and keep her from biting him further. His body crouched lower, attempting to cage her flailing legs between their bodies so she could no longer kick him. If she kept it up though she might just throw him off.

Rolling combat 1d20: 6
Poor - You barely hurt your opponent

She didn't pay any mind to his pleading, in fact it only stoked her flames further. Didn't want to hurt her? Fat chance. He was a criminal, that's what they did as a damn profession - hurt people. Her lips peeled up over her bloodied fangs as she spat at him.

"You already have!" She couldn't help the crack in her voice. She'd given him a chance to avoid all of this, but he was too stuck up in his own self to take the out.

She cried as his jaws clamped around hers then; teeth digging into her thin flesh. Mustering the most thunderous growl she could, she shoved upwards with all of her limbs, desperate to get out from under him.

HP: 25

Declan is not attacking.
Declan HP: 29

She was relentless, he'd give her that. If her anger was directed at him he would have praised her for her willingness to fight for something but as it stood, this just didn't seem worth it. But she was a soldier, she'd never see things his way... she hadn't even given him the benefit of the doubt and tried to listen to what he had to say. He was just a criminal in her eyes; filth... and that caused his skin to itch uncomfortably as he towered over her.

"You already have!" she threw back in his face, her voice cracking. He cringed inwardly, wishing she didn't see it that way. It wasn't until he drew her blood that he felt true regret well up inside. He could taste the iron on his tongue and it was disgusting. He wanted to spit, but he didn't have the time before she shoved at him with all her might. She must've been weakened from passing out earlier because her efforts did little to move him. He could feel wetness welling in his fur on his belly from where her claws had already scored him and his jaw hurt from where she'd snapped at him. "You don't know what true pain is," he seethed. She was young, surely her life hadn't been all that bad for her to end up where she was now. She didn't know the pain of having a father that hated you and forced you to do things you didn't want to do. No, she probably had some doting, loving parents that were so proud of her for being an upstanding citizen.

His eyes narrowed and he felt a twinge of jealousy for the possibly false stories he'd made up in his head for the woman beneath him. And still he did not want to hurt her. "I'll let you up if you just let me go. We never have to see each other again," he promised her.

Rolling combat 1d20: 11
Fair - You hurt your opponent moderately

She had to give it to him - he really, really didn't want to fight her. But now her bed was made, and she would be commiting a felony herself if she let him walk away now. She knew the stench of drugs - that was a punishable offense, whether or not they were his.

He spoke to her, trying to get through the haze of anger that surrounded her, but she didn't want to hear more lies and deceit. Why were all the cute boys always so bad? Her ears pinned back to her silver crown as she shook her head forcefully.

"This isn't the end of us, Declan. I'll be seeing much more of you whether you like it or not." A vendetta was made right there as she vowed to herself to either get Declan to give her what she asked for to begin with, or take him to jail herself.

And then she jerked upwards, biting at his lip as if she wanted to leave him a reminder of her for the rest of his life.

HP: 25