She flinched, hard, and Sverke might've felt a twinge of guilt. Just a fleeting moment, though, his gaze watching her narrow muzzle wrinkle before she seemed to properly process his words. Then, her tail gave a tentative pat to the forest floor, when it had once remained protectively curled between her legs.

Sverke allowed a smug smirk to curl upon his maw. They said you caught more flies with honey, but flies weren't his prey of choice - and he found teeth and honeyed words to both be equally effective. I wouldn't waste my breath giving pursuit to nobody. He snorted, derisive of the very idea.

You challenged me with a chase, and I won. Here you are, my prize, Mine mine mine, like the sun in the sky, like the stars broken into shards beneath his teeth. However pathetic you might look, that makes you something indeed.

The boy's head tilted, gaze curious, as he waited to see what sort of reaction his words would prompt from the shadow.

Skill: Masochist [2/5]

---

Boastful words showered down over Deirdre's frail body, sending a shudder down the curve of her spine. 'Here you are, my prize.' Prize... she sucked in a quiet breath, slowly hoisting herself away from the ground until she reclined against her haunches, head still low, gaze still averted.

'However pathetic you might look, that makes you something indeed.' Something—gods, to him, she was something. Her tail drummed against the earthen forest floor, deep, dark eyes flickering up to him every few heartbeats. I'm... Deirdre, she spoke quietly. Sverke, you...you don't...need to chase me. Preemptively, she flinched. I won't run...

Not if he didn't want her to. If it meant she meant something, she would sit here and take it. Let him gnaw on her limbs, pull at her nape, tear at her skin—if it meant she would be something. Anything.

Shivers ran down the young wolf's taut body. Her heart beat in her throat—was it fear, or was it exhilaration? She didn't know. She didn't care.

She offered her name, then a plea - or a promise. Sverke quelled his grimace before it could form on his face. He didn't need to chase her - she wouldn't run, she swore. He liked the deference, but he was almost immediately annoyed by the denial of the chase he'd been looking forward too. Sverke narrowed his hypnotic gaze at her for a long moment, weighing the shadow's response.

He could feel the moon's gaze, silver spilling down his spine, watchful and judging. He wondered if his twin was out chasing it, or drinking his way into avoiding the silver celestial's siren call.

His interest in the chase was waning already. He didn't think her frail body could keep up with his stamina. Sverke sighed softly. Alright. He replied. Some other time, Dierdre. And he gave her a boyish, mischievous smile. Where are you from? There aren't many who come this far north without seeking us.