All For Us

@Edith @Warwick continuing from here

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No sooner had he accepted the Duke's challenge would Calhoun move, sure that Edith would be quick to follow from behind. Though he was still growing into his body, Calhoun had already adapted to his long limbs and he was sure to use them to aid in his swift desire to close the gap. Vengeance was always one to go for a kill as quickly as possible. Most never expected fangs at their throat in the first blow, but if you were fast enough you could shut down a fight before it even started.

However, Calhoun was not Vengeance. Their brother would surely be extra on edge with his disadvantage, and any movement he made would quickly be shifted away from. For that reason, he did not aim his fangs at his brother, but to the side should he doge into them. If Edith recognized his movements perhaps she too would plan the same for his other side. Then the only true out Warwick had was to stand still and call their bluff. If Warwick failed, however, he'd be sure to grab hold with enough pressure to keep a grip on whatever fur landed in his mouth without piercing his brother's flesh. This was a spar after all, not a fight.

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The citrine in his eyes glimmered when brother and sister did not reject his provocation. 'I meant individually but I can take you both down easily enough. Edith is your bite still as weak as your words?', he wanted to antagonise her, draw her in, push her buttons so she would be too reactive and work on impulse rather than strategy. He stayed put but moved to the side so his flank was bare to both, his head twisting to the side following his sisters' movements.

There was a crackle of anticipation now of who was so bold to move first. Inwardly smiling at the escalation of their interaction and how quickly they fell to old habits.

He quickly cast a glance at his brother, assessing what his plan was, but they had not moved yet. The duke was now between the two, head-turning every split second from one sibling to another, already a weakness in his own strategy for failing to make the first move, so it was inevitable one would time their move as his head would turn toward the opposing sibling. He waited. Muscles began to tense in suspense beneath his summer coat of burnt chocolate.

 

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”Edith is your bite still as weak as your words?” Warwick challenged. He knew how to press her buttons, and he was successful in doing so. She growled, flashing her jaws and lashing her tail. Edith would make him pay for what he said.

Calhoun leapt into action, and she followed suit at his opposite. Her gaze darted between her brothers, her mind quickly calculating her next step, and soon she recognized what the plan was. She down low, aiming for the legs. While she wasn’t sure how Warwick would move, Edith figured her move would be a distraction at the very least, allowing Calhoun to land his next move.

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He had yet to move other than turn to see both opponents. Warwick was wise to try and throw Edith's cool. If she was reckless, he may be able to use her to get in his way, but that wouldn't stop the glance they shared, if only for a moment. Both had lunged, one with her aim low, the other high, yet Warwick wasn't one to flinch. The Duke tensed as they neared, but he hadn't fled into his grasp either.

Very well. There were other ways to make him move. Calhoun's fangs would snap on open air as he shifted his footing to throw his shoulder with the force of his weight into his brother's side. Unless he ran straight to avoid both then he would have to deal with the onset of Edith's fangs or his own blow that may topple him over their sister. Anything to slow his movements or shove him to the ground. No win condition had been set, but a pin would be defeat no matter the circumstances.

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It seemed sister took her chance first, his head swayed to look at Calhoun and Edith timed her move to perfection, lunging for his legs, but in doing so his immediate response was to throw his head down upon her impact, his teeth bared but not intending to puncture of course, on the very same scruff their mother would have once tenderly picked each up with. But there was nothing tender with his hold as he grabbed onto the back of her neck, already pinning her there.

But as he grabbed. Calhoun was simultaneously throwing himself into him, his brute force managed to topple him over Edith, his balance already shot away due to his sister's grip on his front leg, but this did not release his own grip. His weight upon her now, his side shoulder anchoring into her, but he did not move from here, pushing into her. His grip tightened with any of her movements. He'd got at least one sibling underneath him, and he watched his brother wondering what he'd do next, whilst his sister would undoubtedly contemplate her own.

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lemme know if anything was too pp here and i'll happily edit!

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Edith aimed to grab and hold Warwick into place, allowing Calhoun to swoop in and catch their brother off guard. Their plan worked, but it didn't go exactly as she had planned. Despite the deviations in her expectations, everything happened, like dominoes falling into place—her grabbing his leg, him holding her scruff, and their brother swooping in to knock their opponent off balance. 

Soon enough, after the chaos of the tossing and turning, Warwick was on top of her. Instead of thinking, she acted, as she often did. With Warwick's leg still in her mouth, Edith thrust upwards, bucking like a bronco.

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In all truth, Calhoun had been in few fights. His training, few and far between, often relied on other challenges as opposed to the fangs of an opponent. It was a challenge he welcomed now, even though his advantage quickly toppled with his brother. Edith was stubborn though, she would not accept a pin so swiftly, nor would he allow her to. Warwick could try to force their sister to submit, but he would sacrifice himself to his own fangs should he try.

The elken boy caught his brother's stare as he tried to keep Edith at bay, but he would not pause even as Warwick looked his way. Instead, he pressed on as the two had toppled, his fangs lashing out once more in an attempt to grab his brother's tail with a rough jerk. It would hardly harm the prince in any serious manner, but the pain or shock may release or at the very least loosen Warwick's grip enough for Edith to squirm her way to freedom.

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Edith began to shift, heaving upwards into him, and he callously strengthened his grip on her neck, but not enough to inflict a wound upon his dear sister, no matter how hardy she was.

In the same instance he challenged his brother with a glare, Calhoun had moved for his tail and when the duke felt the sharp sting of teeth, he withdrew his own from Edith, spiralling like a dreidel and snapping at the air, probably squishing Edith in the process as he pivoted upon her to get to the next attacking sibling. 

Warwick had lunged at the same time, the blade of his teeth aimed for anything upon his brother's face, ears or snout being the most prominent. If he had been too slow to grab either, he'd lunge for the retreating brother aiming to snag onto the plush skin at the side of their neck.

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Calhoun had saved Edith, but couldn't protect her from Warwick squishing her one last time. He managed to squeeze the air out of her, and she took a moment to collect herself as she caught her breath. Once ready, she returned to the fray, leaping towards the tangle of bodies with her arms outstretched and her fangs bared. 

As Calhoun retreated, with Warwick right behind him, Edith found her advantage. Throwing herself at her brother, she aimed to grab the opponent's tail in an effort to either trip him up or pull him back.

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He had taunted for his brother's attention so it came as no surprise as he was fully turned on. Pressing a quick advance, Warwick managed to rip his tail free from his grip as ivories were quick to greet his own. Having little defense to block the onslaught of blows towards his face, Calhoun simply fought fire with fire, or in this case bone with bone. The elken boy would attempt to meet each blow with one of his own to lessen the slashes even if it meant clashing their fangs together in a painful brutish display.

The sting of a fresh wound found its way to his skin as he looked to buy time. The flurry of fangs could only go on for so long until Edith managed to draw his attention away or better yet, he found an opening of his own. Deciding eventually to sacrifice a blow for an opening, the boy would duck as Warwick found his ear only to pursue the heir's neck. A ripped ear may be painful, but death would be far worse. Of course...this was merely a brawl of siblings, not a brawl to the death. Even should Calhoun find his mark he would only apply enough pressure to make his point as opposed to harming his kin.

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Two siblings that raged that same competitive streak as he did, it was clear neither was going to back down. With one at the head and one at the tail.

He at least found purchase in his brother's ear. Gripping hold, and clenching harder when the same sibling clung to Warwick's throat. 

The duke growled though when his sister tugged his tail, and he would end up unintentionally gripping for balance on his brother, causing a spill of blood from his sunken fangs. 

He couldn't let go. And wouldn't. If Edith continued to pull and tug, she was inviting him to inflict further wounds on the other brother. But also his brother was held in place, teeth locked too on Warwicks' jugular. 

Warwick would voice his discontent, his snarl never-ending to warn both brother and sister of the current stalemate. 

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They were in a standoff and Edith wasn't sure what to do next—it seemed like whatever she decided to do could and would backfire. Since Calhoun was the one in the unfavorable position, she deferred to his judgment on how they should proceed. She looked at him dead in the eye and woofed through a mouthful of Warwick's tail, signaling for him to make the next move.

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In a blink the trio had been led to a standstill. Warwick only offered a series of grows that thrummed against the fangs at his throat, his precarious position leading to the blood draw at his ear. Calhoun only offered a snarl at the piercing feeling, but he would not waiver. He already knew what he risked diving in and now that it had come he felt no different. His brother could continue if he truly wished to harm his own blood, but Calhoun would only come out stronger for it.

Edith called for his attention though she would only briefly catch his gaze. Never surrender. Never let your guard down. Two simple rules and perhaps all @Vengeance had to offer in his harsh visions of reality. They had left for the mist to come back stronger and he had every intention of proving their efforts were worthwhile. Furthering the curl of his lip, Calhoun tightened his grip on the duke's throat waiting for his surrender. He would never kill his own. His strength was for his kin and the High Elk alone, but if Warwick did not cease now, he would make him question his own morals if need be.

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No one had made any further movements, all gripping onto what their stubbornness could. And the same determination would be the death of each. The three all shared such an unwavering trait, unwilling to back down, and this only made them a reckoned force against all opposed when working as a unit in their futures.

But in the meanwhile, their targets were two-on-one. His sister remained attached to Warwick's rump, and his brother latched on with unhinging teeth at the base of his jugular. And as Warwick now faced a brawl turmoiling into one of relentlessness, he became rather ruthless. 

Very slowly and gradually he plunges his daggers further into the soft, breakable cartilage of Calhoun's ear. A threat to worsen the damage, knowing his brother will probably end up doing the very same, though he doubted death would be the route to his brother's tireless wrath. ''et go o' my h'roat. 'ou won't win vis — let go of my throat. you won't win this', he snarled between his unfaltering jaws.  

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Never surrender. Never let your guard down.—Edith received Calhoun's message loud and clear and continued to hold onto Warwick's tail. 

"'ou 'fink 'ou van 'in 'dis??" she mocked in reply to her brother's stubborn and delusional threat, holding back laughter, "no 'ucking 'way—we got 'chu" She bit harder then—not enough to harm—to send a message to him. They were not going to surrender.

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Confident with no grounds to stand, his poor brother seemingly had not learned yet that he nor their sister were the same as they once were. Warwick was delusional if he truly thought he was in any position to boast and Edith only fed into it with muffled words. He, however, said nothing as he tightened the grip on his brother's throat waiting breaking skin if need be to hear those sweet words of surrender. The action only brought fangs against his own flesh as he felt the sting of torn skin and the trickle of blood from where Warwick had pierced. Still, he did not waiver now used to being battered, bruised, or scraped in the midst of training.

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Alarm sent a wave through his body with that sudden ouch from his sister's grasp. It forced him to call his brothers bluff, the tightness clenching around his throat yet he knew his brother wouldn't dream of passing such a fatal threshold. Contemplating using brute force to move forward and shove his sibling with his weight, to throw them (he and cal) both to the ground. 

But then a tang of metal hit his tongue from the minor puncture in his brother's ear, and he withdrew his clasp. It was going to pass a line Warwick would not want. The trio were a reckless force. And even with his extensive training, his stamina and endurance from his running, swimming and patrolling, more than his two siblings put together did (in his mind), he decided he'd wave the flag on this occasion. 

It wasn't a level playing field with two-on-one. 

With a paw raising and squeezing between the two brothers, he placed it on Calhoun's chest. 'Fine, fine, enough. You guys win... Today', he attempted to half-chuckle but with the compression on his throat, it was more suppressed.

He'd managed to pin his sister down earlier with jaws upon her the nape of the neck, and that was at least one win in the duke's mind, it was only Calhoun he wasn't quick enough to do the same. And that would be his thoughts on today's spar. 

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Edith smirked as Warwick surrendered. She released his tail and took a step back to give him some space. "Maybe next time," she sniffed, lifting her chin and looking as smug as ever. Then, to rub it in more, she added, "Maybe you should have come and trained with us at the Nightwalkers—the quality of training here is ... lacking in comparison." 

She looked at Calhoun and wondered how he'd chime in.

 

Ending here to start our thread directly after!

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