[Flashback] Of Wing, Fur, and Fang (Musca)

[Shadowfang]

6th of Fall 509AV

Shadowfang chomped into the bare arm of the man he and his companions had just recently killed and pulled away, tearing flesh from bone. Sinew ripped and tendons snapped as the Zith feasted on the dead traveler. There were five other Zith moving about around him either feasting on one of the two dead travelers or looking through the traveler’s packs for anything useful. He was one of two younger Zith to come along on this hunt and, luckily, both had survived it. One of the older Zith, around seventeen years old, approached Shadowfang and looked down at him speaking Zithanese.

"That was pretty good for a first hunt, bookworm." Bookworm. It was an insult that many Zith pointed at Shadowfang for his love of reading books that slaves would bring with them. This time, however, it was said with a hint of respect. "You might actually be halfway useful after all." Shadowfang met the Zith's words with a look, then returned to his meal.

The hunt had gone off mostly without a hitch. Shadowfang and two other Zith had waited in the tall grass, lying down to camouflage themselves. The other three swooped in from above, disorienting the travelers and allowing for Shadowfang's group to move in and kill them. One Zith had been cut by one of the travelers, but he was not seriously wounded. All in all, the hunters had gotten a good haul: food and tools from the travelers.

"Alright, let’s get back to the colony!" the Zith exclaimed. "Bookworm, you stay here with Musca and gather the rest of the loot. Anything that's useful. The rest of you, pick up these bodies and let's take them back. Let's go!" The four Zith gathered up the corpses, consequently taking Shadowfang's meal away from him, and flew off. Just like that, Shadowfang was left alone with Musca. Wiping the blood from his mouth, he looked around for the other Zith.

[Musca]

The smell of grass surrounded her- crisp and fresh, the barest hint of human detracting from it. Wind blew, and the grass swayed with it, a dance that started long before her kind was born. But no one paid attention- focusing on the humans before them. They were laughing, talking and singing carelessly, utterly absorbed with one another. Humans. So clueless. They didn't even notice that a bunch of Zith was waiting to ambush them. The oldest of them glanced at her, maybe for confirmation, maybe for something else. She didn't know. She didn't want to know. The younger female shifted her attention back to the humans, willing with all her power that the male advert his own. It didn't take long for the scenery to shift; a sudden onslaught of Zith's diving into it, clawing and biting and hissing. But they were only pups- their first hunt no less, and their inexperience quickly became apparent. The older Ziths quickly reacted, pouncing from their hiding place with their weapons at hand. The travellers were young. Inexperienced and naive- blinded by their own grandeurs and thought themselves as invisible. They were dead in a matter of chimes, unable to handle the violent onslaught. Though victorious, the group was not without wounds- one of the younger ones had carelessly ended with a gash across his shoulder. But the wound did not deter him, or the younger Ziths, in claiming their prize. Like moths, they gravitated towards the corpses, digging and biting into the lifeless bodies that lay amongst the grass. The older ones watched this for a moment, wise enough not to disturb them. A claw gently swiped at her arm, not enough to be painful although annoying enough to gain her notice. It didn't surprise her it was the older male again, Retch. "I need to get that pup fixed up. Wanna come?" There was layer of a suggestion in his tone, hinting playfully and teasingly that the pup was not his only intention. She shook her head. His chapped lips drew out into a displeased line, but he didn't bother forcing himself on her, instead turning to address the other Zith beside her. "Loot the body with some pups- I'll take care of the idiot." "And the bookworm?" The Zith replied, a touch of apprehension coloring his tone. "He was impressive today, but..." The other two nodded understandingly. No one really knew what to do with the little oddball. "Alright, let's get back to the colony!" Retch exclaimed, turning to the younger Ziths. "Bookworm, you stay here with Musca and gather the rest of the loot. Anything that's useful. The rest of you, pick up these bodies and let's take them back. Let's go!" They moved to his command, tactfully ignoring the seething female who glared daggers at their leader. The little shyke. They were left alone a little later, with only the dancing grass as company and the wane moonlight which guided travellers, the full moon observing them with it's bright children. Musca turned to the younger Zith, her glare still intact as her eyes roamed the savage blood that stuck on his fur. Ridiculous. How dare they leave her. "Stop looking like such a lost cause, pup." She snapped angrily, "get moving already." Once again, her temper had ran away from her grasp, betraying her apathy towards the bookworm. Admittedly, he was a curious creature- for what Zith preferred parchment over the company of others? But such fascination was overpowered by the burn of the insult that lay in Retch's command. Musca flounced her way to the strange contraption that they had lived in- a house that was carried by a dead horse. Without a thought, she dove into the entrance of the human house, the sounds of clanging and bashing heard from the outside. It was cramped inside, full of things that didn't make sense to her. Overwhelmed, she drew out of the small cavern and shook her head, befuddled. "Humans and their trinkets..." she blew an impatient huff and beckoned the younger Zith with a shout. "Hey, pup. Hurry up and come here already. I want to go home before sunrise, you know!" noteapparently, 'pup' is an infant bat. Correct me if I'm wrong.

[Shadowfang]

Musca's snapping at him almost made Shadowfang jump in surprise. The older Zith was angry for some reason, possibly because she had been left with him. He understood that most other Zith did not like him and that this one was probably no different. Of course, he could not guess at the real reason she was peeved, he only assumed that she was the same as the others. It was enough for him to know that he was different. Drastically so. The only person he would ever openly speak to was Borth, the Jamoura slave in his den. There was no one else.

While Musca went about her own business, Shadowfang began scanning the ground around the area where the bodies had lain. He was looking for anything that the rest of his group might have left behind. A loud tumult from within the wheel-house drew his attention. Musca was nowhere to be seen. Apparently she had entered the house and it sounded like she was wrestling with whatever was inside, be it alive or inanimate. The Zith poked her head out and beckoned to Shadowfang, ordering him to come inside. He figured it was so he could help her make sense of whatever tools, toys, or trinkets were inside the house.

 He hopped inside and looked around the interior of the house. They did not need much light to see within the dark confines of the wheel-house but even then, it took some time for Shadowfang's eyes to adjust. He looked around in relative awe. There were so many odd tools and contraptions it the little house. Vials of liquids, metal objects, leather crafts, and - much to Shadowfang's pleasure - books and scrolls. He grabbed the first book he saw and looked at the cover, accidentally tipping over a bucket with a couple of sharp blades inside. He sat down next to Musca, as there was not exactly another place to sit inside the cramped quarters, and placed to book to the side to grab a tool. It was something that he though was called a "hammer" but could not be certain of right now.

"This is used for building and repairing things but it looks like it could destroy things too." he spoke out loud, more to himself than to Musca. He hung the tool on his harness. Tools were something that his race understood the value of, not like those little gold and silver pieces that most races liked to hoard. This went on. Shadowfang grabbed tool after tool, explaining its function and either casting it away or attaching it to his harness. Occasionally, he would grab a book and place it next to him, hoping he would be able to take it back to the his den. In all honesty, he was excited. If most hunts turned out like this one, he would definitely join more of them. 

[Musca]

The strange house shuddered as they both forced their way inside, the items rattling as they shifted uncomfortably in an effort to fight for some extra space. Feet connected with shins, claws fumbled and wings flapped ungraciously inside the confines of wooden walls that stifled air. More than once did Musca had to push the pup's face away from her own during their struggle, fearing a bruising in her eye. Thankfully, they soon settled on some furs tucked in a corner, breathless with their wings moulded on their backs. Exhausted, she sunk deep into the comfort of the furs, noting to herself to claim it later on. But the comfort was only a brief reprieve, for no sooner than a chime later, the young pup was already hopping from one location to another, hands greedily grabbing whatever he could find, spilling a bucket of sharp objects near her foot. She was about to snap at him again, just to put him literally into place. Yet she didn't- instead her face cracked into an amused smile when she saw the childish joy written in his face when he unearthed a book from the pile of... stuff around the wheeled house. And then he shoved it to her hands without thought and grabbed for a hammer instead. His eagerness was getting to her nerves. "Can't you calm down for a moment?" Musca muttered, her annoyance catching her tone. Her complaints, as she had expected, fell on indifferent ears. She almost scoffed when the pup explained the hammer's use. Of course she knew that. She was older than him! Why did she need to be lectured on tools when she clearly knew the function of a... spoon, when she had lived three years longer than the little bat-shyke? Musca glared at him heatedly. There was something about age that made people act put on airs- to put up a facade of experience and wisdom more than they had whilst jealously guarding their position as the superior one. For such type of people, they wore their age like merit badges to be flashed around and pointed at random times of the day, simply because they can. And Musca was one of them. While he innocently explained the mechanics of random objects, she made it a mission to interject on every statement- making corrections where she didn't need to, sneering at the parts she was ignorant of and fed him random facts regardless of it's accountability. By the time that they had ran out of things to discuss and argue about, she had already landed a couple of blows on him and was ready to argue her way out of the concepts of plates and forks. "You're a lost cause!" She exclaimed, throwing him a sour look, "who cares if it supposed to pick up stuff or not? We're not going to use it anytime soon! We eat with our claws, remember? Clawwssss." As she stressed out the word, wiggling her claws along with the sound for extra emphasis. "Not with stupid metals. You know what? Forks are stupid. The whole subject is stupid. Let's talk about something useful for a change, like-" she paused, her eyes darting around as she searched for a random object that could give her an advantage over him. It fell promptly on the blades and she grabbed for it eagerly, waving it at his face, "this! This is what we're supposed to be talking about! Petch, this is what we're all about! Do you understand this concept, little pup?" She wasted no time in answering her own question, "of course you don't! How could you when you've never played with it before. Always with the books... and the reading... I'm surprised that someone hasn't thrown you to the lake yet to clear your mind..." Her words began to die out as well as her angry flailing, for she had the most wonderful idea. Eagerly, she leaned in closer to the pup, their foreheads almost touching with her voice dropping at a conspiratory volume, "Why don't I teach you? I've been in a couple of hunts myself... and I've never missed lessons before. It's brilliant!" She laughed gleefully and jerked herself back to her original position, her mouth running endlessly without thought, "Of course I can't teach you about daggers or anything remotely pointy- I bet you'd get a cut the moment you swing it. I've seen that before- it was pretty pathetic. And bows are definitely out of the question. You'd probably snap all the arrows. Geez, you don't do much, do you?" Her youthful face scrunched up, her brow crinkling."Or we can just use our fists. Yes. Fists. That's a good way to start it. Alright, it's decided then. Fists."For a moment, a silence descended on the two Ziths, an uncertainty of the next course of action. Getting sick of this, she decided to solve it the only way she knew how to- by gaving him the most vicious glare she could and hardened her voice. "Well? What're you waiting for?"

[Shadowfang]

Another angry outburst froze Shadowfang where he stood. He had quickly grown used to he and Musca's squabbling, but this was different. She was nearly screaming at him, reprimanding him for his excitement over the human artifacts. The she grabbed a dagger and began waving it in his face, catching him completely off guard. He fell backwards onto a pile of random items with a crash and a clatter, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut in pain. When he opened them again, they were staring directly into  Musca's, her face mere inches away from his.  Her words, dripping with what he perceived as acid and malice, made him almost afraid. He could taste her hot breath on his tongue and feel it blowing on his face as she issued her offer... no; more of an order that she teach him how to fight.

Just as suddenly as she was in his face, she was away from him again, chattering excitedly though probably with a hint of her previous annoyance. She went on about what he should teach him, talking about different weapons, exaggerating whatever lack of skill he had with them, and generally insulting him all around. Still lying on his bed of items, Shadowfang looked down at the ground. He felt more guilty than angry. He put up with being insulted almost constantly so it was nothing new, but her almost bullying ramblings made him feel like he really was useless.

At the mention of fists, he perked up. His fists were weapons he knew how to use, as he had been forced to defend himself on more that one occasion. He brought himself up and crouched on all fours, preparing to exit through the back of the house. He hesitated before moving and began to think. Why did she insult him? Why did anyone insult him? She had no place to do so, so why did she do it. He suddenly felt the anger that had been absent during her rant begin to surface. He had no problem with Musca as a person, but he needed to take it out on someone. Perhaps this training session would be a good idea after all.

He crawled out of the house, trying his hardest to keep his anger under control. He thought maybe he should take the first strike and begin a sparring match, but remained still, facing away from both the house and the female Zith. He stared at the night sky and tried to calm himself down, then clenched his fists and turned to face Musca's hardened glare once again. He stood there awkwardly. He'd fought before but he was unsure if training was any different or not, so he simply stared into Musca's eyes and raised his fists, waiting for her to make the first move. His determination was apparent. He was going to prove that he was not just some weakling that could be toyed with.

[Musca]

Flashes of emotions passed through his expression, of guilt, shame and anger. But despite it all, she held no such regret in her words and only smiled at him as she saw his resentment flare along with the grip of determination. Musca liked that. Without a sound, she followed him out of the strange house, her thoughts preoccupied in how to teach the little pup something that came naturally to her. Claws, wings, fangs- what else would one need to use in a fight? Building a strategy was beyond her- she’s never one to follow plans, or make one. In a fight, all one really needed to do was release their demons, let it take control and hope simply for the best. There was no need for plans. This was giving her a headache. As he took the space closest to the house, she claimed the area opposite of his, making a measurable amount of space between them. His eyes were on her’s- uncertainty tainting his determination. Looking at his form critically, she almost laughed at his awkward positioning. What were they? Human children? She shook her head. “Enough of that pup,” she bellowed, rising her voice although she knew he could hear her perfectly clear even if she were to speak normally, “put your fists down- how dare you compare us Zith to the likeliness of human children? Unacceptable. Bring your fists down and then we shall start.” Even if he did as what she commanded or not, Musca plowed through her insufferable ramblings, keeping her eyes on him as she vaguely circled him. “In a fight- what do you think of? Do you think of how you can land blows on your opponent? Do you visualise the moves you might make to avoid the punches and kicks that are aimed at you? Or do you think of the fastest way to escape?” She smirked and continued. “Instead of blows to be exchanged, think of the blood that splatters on the ground, think of how the body shatters under your fist and feet. Think of how the flesh will tear as you claw them. And then think of the quickest way you can cheat your opponent of their turn- use any tricks and distractions you can find. Anything to let you emerge as the survivor.” “Use anything,” she murmured, her claws stretching wide, “to ensure that your life is still yours by the end of the fight. Whether that means to escape, maim or kill your opponent, it doesn’t matter. Do you understand?” Musca’s smile windened wickedly, hungry for the promise of a fight. “I don’t like to hold back. And it seems you have quite an aggression to release. I have no experience in teaching- so let’s do this practically, yes?” Finally, after finding a spot that covered her view on the little bookworm’s area, she stopped and steadied herself, wings and teeth flashing as she grinned at the pup. He was waiting for her to move and she in turn, returned the favour by waiting on him. Though this fight didn’t mean much in a grader scale, Musca hated losing. And the possibility of losing to the bookworm? Unacceptable.

[Shadowfang]

In a fight, what did he think of? He was one that always overanalyzed everything that came his way, be it an object, person, or event. He would fight to run away at times, thinking of how to best escape his situation. But in a fight, a true fight to the death - much like the one in the hunt that had recently happened - he did not think. He just did; obeying his instincts and acting on impulse, not even thinking of where to strike, just trying to land a blow, to rip with claw and fang. Musca's words, though long and ranting, carried a great deal of weight.

Use anything to ensure that your life is still your by the end of the fight. That list bit of advice hung in his head as if it was trying to be sure he remembered it. Use absolutely anything. He was sure that Musca was not simply throwing words around. She meant what she said.

He met her smile with an uncharacteristically vicious smile of his own. He took a ready stance and spread his claws. His wings spread and folded, stretching out and limbering up. He was ready to take her "practical" approach. He bent his legs and sprung, running toward Musca with his open hand drawn back, claws ready to rip at whatever they met. He let out a snarl and swung his claws at her face with all his might, fueled by his pent up anger and aggression. She did not want to hold back, so neither did he.

OOCOur posts are probably going to start getting a little shorter from he on out because of the action. Well mine will at least >.>

[Musca]

She hissed as she tried to avoid his assaulting claws, staggering back in surprise. The force in his movements enthralled her, made her curious and in want of more. Who knew the bookworm could produce such a face? "Fantastic!" She screamed, her delight growing as their dance grew more erratic. "That's what I'm talking about!" Still caught up by her amazement, Musca let the little Zith continue with his uncoordinated air slashing as she bobbed with the flow of his movements, wanting to build up his expectations and his confidence. In the haze of claws that eagerly lashed at her, she ducked and elbowed the side of his body as she twisted around, in an effort to bring them together. Taking advantage of the momentary disorientation that would arise, Musca grabbed the arm of the pup forcing him closer to her form until they were eye to eye. Musca laughed, the sound abrasive and reckless as it carried against the wind, utterly feral and gleeful. Roughly, without thought or explanation, the Zith crashed her forehead against the face of the pup, willing it to land on his nose or eye. In doing so however, also left the Zith dazed by the force of their collision, wincing as the pain throbbed on her head. But she shook it off, steadying herself with even footing. Though the pain in her head was mostly her fault, Musca glared the younger Zith anyway- her eyes blazing with blame and fury. The little shyke.

[Shadowfang]

Musca's attack took Shadowfang completely by surprise. After a good chime of swinging his claws at her, she grabbed him and brought her face close to his, allowing him to stare into her dark blue eyes. Without any further warning, she slammed her face against his own, bashing his nose with her forehead. He put his hands to his face and fell to the ground, yelling in pain. His eyes began to tear up and his nose was running, either with snot or blood or both. He sat on the ground for a moment, thrashing and holding his face, gritting his teeth. Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch! He looked at her through his fingers, meeting her eyes with his own venom-filled glare.

He quickly forced himself to his feet and readied himself for another strike, sniffing to keep the runny liquid from escaping his nose. He wiped the tears and blood and snot from his face and leapt forward again, throwing his whole body into his attack. Instead of swinging an arm at her face, however; he pointed a shoulder at her gut in an attempt to wrap his arms around her and tackle her to the ground. As long as he came out on top, this method would work and he could focus on landing more blows on the annoying she-Zith.

Any trace of the "bookworm" in Shadowfang was gone at this point. There was no more intelligence, no more careful analyzation, no more deep thought. There was only a burning desire to taste his enemy's blood, to fight with everything he had, to win. In the heat of battle, Musca was merely something that needed to be destroyed.

[Musca]

She bared her teeth out at him, snarling and growling when he parried her own glare with his own. Insolent pup, foolish pup. Did he really think that he had a smidgeon of chance in winning against her? Musca snapped her teeth, leering as she watched him struggle on his feet and wipe back the fluids that hanged pathetically on his face. Idiot. If she weren’t such a bitch, she would’ve felt sorry for him. She cackled, eyes flashing in excitement and malice, “You’re looking very pretty with-” she never got to finish her taunting; he had hurled himself at her, latching on to her like a fucking tick that he was and tried to bring her down the ground using all his scrawny little muscles and pitiful strength. And succeeded. It was simply too bad that Musca had no measurable strength that would’ve steadied her against his sudden attack. She crashed into the ground, a shrieking and yelling banshee that sprouted words that made no coherent sense with claws slashing anything it came in contact with; the air, his flesh, anything. Whether or not she had actually landed any blows on him was lost on her- the young female was far too embroiled in her fury of being mounted by... by a male pup. A pup! She being ridden by a fucking half grown idiot! In her anger, Musca spat on him before bringing her arms to her face, knowing exactly what will happen next. But it wouldn’t hold out for long, not against his attacks that would no doubt be feral. She needed to escape. With a hiss, she brought down one of her arms whilst simultaneously drawing her knees upwards and pulling her feet towards her bottom as far as she could, hooking in one of his ankles as she did so. Using her free hand, she grabbed the young pup’s side, digging her claws into his flesh with all her might and thrusted her hips upwards and twisted away from his body, guiding the direction of his stumble away from her. Now free, she wasted no time in scrambling to her feet, ignoring the dull pain on her arms. The female zith made her way to the fallen pup, standing over him with a strange smile on her lips. She was about to say something, maybe the start of another long winded rant, but thought better of it. It was a practical lesson; not some pretentious lecture. With that thought, she brought down her foot to his gut, stomping on him as hard as she could and kicked his side a few times for good measure. Practical indeed. OOCShang gave me the okay to godmod a bit