The girl grinned, toothy smile inked in madness. The giddy, razor-edged mania prickled beneath his pelt uncomfortably. The boy's instincts warned him: caution. Honoring what had kept him alive this long, his claws dug into the loam beneath his paws, his stance braced for anything to come his way.
She only went on to caw like her raven, about Yakone, about their 'spat'.
To Briar's credit, the encounter was not ruined just yet. To Trygve, traded insults and sneered efforts to cut down the other was just how he made friends.
She'd rather you had beat me to death with the stick.He retorted, with an exasperated huff.
The girl bent into a playbow, tail over her hips. Trygve snorted and a smirk curved lopsided on his features, until, at least, Briar made the mistake of calling him 'pretty boy'.
Pretty...?
The boy gruffly snorted, lifting his chin to look down his nose at the stranger. a night, she said, not death do us part.
Call me 'pretty' again - who's to say that they aren't one and the same?
It's a threat, wrapped in the most cursory of a lighthearted edge. Down his spine, a bizarre mingling of two-toned guard hairs threatened to lift.
![[Image: trygve-chirpeax.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/vBkzDQZV/trygve-chirpeax.png)
