ORIGIN - [DEATHMATCH] Maximus x Melinoe

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And then, there was the Forsaken Revenant.

Perhaps she was monstrous for being made with little moral standing, little care for the preservation of life, rather than her own gnarly features. (There'd always be fighters as long as this Cave was awake, y'know?) Yet, Vakornol was considering heeding the call for help in the face of an earned victory. It had been luck that the violent lightning had not struck Maximus, but still they had fought well once fully provoked, landing a few hits and evading or blocking most.

Of course, that respect had started to wane when the biped turned tail and ran from Draconua, but...

Well. She couldn't blame them.

In any case, Vakornol cast aside her slushy and stood to bellow her advice: "IF YOU'RE GOING TO THROW AN INSULT IN THE PIT, YOU BEST PUT YOUR TEETH AND CLAWS BEHIND IT TOO." Ah, the age-old adage: talk shit, get hit.

But, Draconua was being led away—"We're lookin' forward to your performance in the next round, bucko. Keep it up!"

Much to her own surprise, Draconua was getting quite tired of seeing her own reflection in blown-wide eyes, her shadow looming over the same cowering figure. Tired of the same sickly feeling of fury crawling up her throat every time the pathetic thing dared to even look her way with faux bravado and derision. It made her want to vomit seeing Maximus still alive, floundering in the sand in a failed escape attempt.

She'd planned to drop the Godforsaken beast from high above the pit, like an ossifrage splits the shell of a turtle on a man's skull, but to Hell with that. The guillotine would be far quicker, and far more satisfying. Her maw gaped wide as she swallowed the distance, the only words rattling from between guttural snarls and hisses being "CRAVEN BEAST."

There was an echoing WHOOMPHF! as leathery wings spread back to their fullest extent, just barely slowing her descent toward Maximus's prone form. Wicked red smoke billowed around her in a halo, bleeding from every (seemingly infinite) ounce of Chaotic essence she boasted. Her hind legs touched down, and she lurched forward with teeth bared—

Snap-snap-snap!
—and toppled onto her front legs into complete, blank stillness. Stillness, except for the beads of sweat dribbling down her snout and mixing with a steadily-growing glob of Oily saliva slipping out of her mouth, her heavy panting.

Her head snapped toward Nemean on the second whistle, still halfway to standing over the other monster if they'd not scrambled backwards yet. It tracked the sprite's motion with a predatory sort of intensity, and eventually she turned to face her, stepping away from Maximus.

Sanguine wings carried the massive beast back across the arena, back to her nice little seat in the stands. They—and all of the monstrous horns and spikes that had accompanied them—faded just as she touched down on the worn bricks, and almost immediately Draconua whirled around with another snarl.

This time, at least, she kept to the stands.

@Maximus

Maximus watched Draconua surge closer, any hope of help dwindling. Instead they raised their spear and prepared to at least thrust it into her chest should she run to bite them-

She was retreating.

Maximus stared, ears filled with cotton as she drew back into the stands, allowing them to live another day. They sat there for a moment, hearing the others cry but not really comprehending their words, too shocked. They'd lived again, but this time they weren't sure if that was a good thing. Why were they doing this again? For travel rights, so they could leave Draco as often as possible. Right.

They pulled themselves up onto shaky legs and hissed, gripping their shoulder in pain. They looked up to the stands, hoping to see someone they knew who actually kind of liked them. Aurelia was there and they lifted their spear to her, knowing she'd been the only one to cheer for them.

With that they staggered away, using their spear like the cane it had originally been intended to be, their spirits dwindling.

@Aurelia @Draconua for vis
Exit Maximus

Draconua's gaze followed the retreat with a predatory intensity, and still yet she just clung to her place. A heinous shudder crawled under her skin, and she quivered in place. Her knuckles shone Oily-black with the grip she was imposing upon the stones beneath her. Maximus raised their spear a second time—the first had been in a defensive attempt that was far too late—to the stands.

She snarled as the monster vanished from view, like a rabid dog at the end of its choke chain.

But still she sat there, awaiting the next match and her next cue for chaotic destruction.

exit

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