in walks a new fur coat -- mauve vs duowolf, day 3

Mauve Morganstern did not fear the darkness.

Where other lurked in the shadows, she walked in the light. The shadows whisper for her to join them, eager to drape themselves over her shoulders, offering a layer of protection from hungry eyes. She had waited until the last of her alliance had dozed off, Liara's angry glare cut off by eyelids that gave into fatigue, before she gathered her things, slipping away under the cover of the night. Only for a moment she had hesitated, her gaze lingering on Bell's sleeping form, maybe I should tell him, she had thought chewing on her lip.

But in the next moment she had turned her back, heading into the darkness and for the first time since coming to the Capitol, since entering the arena, she felt unleashed. Free. Shedding away her allies, her chains, she had nothing to hold her back. She didn't have to worry about Liara stealing her kill, her playthings. She wasn't forced to watch as Bubby broke, a temptation that Mauve was struggling to hold her herself back. Watching him starting to splinter this afternoon had almost been too much, the cracks growing, but not fracturing, not yet, had sent her crazy. She had wanted to fast track her timeline, to rip him apart piece by piece. Filling her with an ecstasy that would have her riding high for the rest of the night, his blood on her fingers, his screams in her dreams.

But then her mother words had whispered in her ears, a reminder that had her fingers loosening on the hilt of her blade, "patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet*." And Mauve loved her fruit sickly fucking sweet. So through clenched teeth and heavy breaths, she had managed to curb her cravings, reminding herself that with Bubby Caro she was playing a long, delightful game.

Thunder dances with lightening, a passionate dance that fills the arena with light and sound. In the distance lightening dances off rooftops of the cabins, lighting her way. As she closes the distance she pulls out her machete, running the blade against hard wood. The friction of wood against steel fills the area, alerting anyone who slumbered to her presence. "Helloooooo," she coo's, swinging her axe lazily onto her shoulder.

"Anyone want to play...?" her voice trails off, her gaze flicking of her shoulder as she heard the panting of an animal between the bouts of thunder. Narrowing her eyes she tries to pin point where the noise was coming from, but the crack of thunder booming across the arena her senses her muffled. Clicking her tongue her gaze sweeps over the cabins, before trailing back into the chaotic darkness behind her. It was no good, there was too much noise, too much movement.

Mauve needed bait, to lure it into her trap, where she would be waiting, hungry eyes ready to devour its next meal.

Slipping into one of the cabins she leaves the door open behind her. Plunged into darkness, her fingers barely visible before her face. The only light source was the lightening that flashed around her, blinding and irregular. Pulling out a chair she angles it so that she has a clear vision of the door. Taking a seat she rests the axe on her knees, focused eyes pinned to the door.

It doesn't take long for a figure cloaked in darkness to fill the doorway. Four legs, two heads and fangs that glint in the darkness. Four sets of eyes, luminescent in the darkness blink back at her for a moment. Then a snarl, amplified by the crack of thunder has Mauves lips pulling back into a grin. "Come get me," she growls a moment before it takes off, lunging at her with bared teeth.

The beast lands on her chest, sending both of them tumbling to the ground, breath hot in her face, teeth sinking into her arm. She expected to feel teeth pierce flesh, puncturing holes tender skin. But teeth meet steel and Mauve gives a bark of laughter, grunting as she pushes the mutt from her, bearing her own teeth. Panting she grips her axe, a flash of light revealing a wolf like creature with two heads and a pelt that would make the perfect coat to join her pillow. "Aren't you a pretty little thing," she hisses, grasping tightly at the axes handle. "Such a pretty pelt."

She had no doubt that the beast could see each of her moves, the darkness enhancing its predatory senses, she gives a testing swing of her axe, tongue flicking over her lower lip as the room waiting. Waiting for the flash of lightening to fill the room, a blinding light that would not doubt numb its senses-

A flash of light.

She lunges, teeth bared she aims for one of the heads.

Would the other one cry when she crushed its skull?

*quote by Aristotle

A swing of her blade is rewarded by a wet crack, her axe burying itself into one of the mutts head. Two sets of feral golden eyes meet blue untamed ones. Lips pull back into a manic grin, her axe buried between two pointed ears.

She felt a rush of power, her skin dancing with goosebumps, she felt like there was a flame burning beneath her skin. Like a lovers touch she felt her stomach tumble with excitement.

She didn't need to taste blood to know that there was death in the air.

The wolf twists away from her awkwardly, a yelp slipping from between fangs as it lands on its back and then there was silence. Axe still buried in skull, one head flops lifelessly to the side. A dead weight that would undoubtedly cause the other head to feel as though its world was off kilter. A part of who it was eliminated in the beat of a heart, lost and confused it would have to find its footing quickly, because Mauve Morganstern was out for blood, and this lost puppy had walked straight into a trap that would end with one of them dead.

And she had no plans for it to be her.

Luminescent eyes narrow, silent no more, the howling scream of the wolf fill the cabin. It bounces off the walls, filled with agony and dispair. The sound of distress washes over her, it fills her with a sense of blissfulness and the unrelenting need to hear more. Many might have felt remorse at the howling wolf, at the anguish that interlaced itself into the cry, but Mauve craved it. It washed over her like steaming hot water on a chilly night, setting her body of fire. It ran across her skin, caressing her arms, her neck, her cheeks. It was thrilling to know that she had the power to snuff out this mutts life flame.

But she wouldn't do it quickly, not like she had to its other half. No, she would take her time. She wanted to feel with withering in her arms. She would toy with it, maybe even make it feel safe for the briefest moment. Then she would break it, she would break its bones, and its mind and the howls that would escape bloodied lips would be ones of pain, pleading her to end it.

The wolf pushes itself to its feet, struggling to find its footing, the dead weight of its other head throwing it off momentum, Mauves axe still protruding from its skull. Between the flashes of lightening and cracks of thunder Mauve hears it stumble around the room, crashing into objects, sending them tumbling to the ground, shattering and breaking with loud heavy thuds.

She moves in a slow circle, arms out stretched before her, trying to track the wounded beast via the crashing and brief flashes of light. It lunges for her, but instead of being faced with bared teeth the hilt of her axe is knocked into her hands. She quickly grabs for it, ripping it from the mutts skull. Mauve doesn't hesitate before she strikes out, her axe uselessly burying itself into the side of the dead mutts head. But hard enough to cause the mutt to loose balance.

They tumble to the ground once again, but this time it is her that pins it to the ground, her breath hot on its throat. Bearing her teeth she leans in close to its ear and bites down. Hard. She pulls at it, but finds no resistance, it was the ear of the dead pup. Regardless, her teeth dig into cartilage, attempting to rip it from the beasts skull.

The mutt twists beneath her, hind legs digging into her hips as it attempted to throw her off, it snarls kicking at her until she is tossed to the side, blood between her teeth she pants, scrambling to her feet she clutches her axe, swinging it for the mutts throat, but in the darkness her blade finds wood, the sounds of a crack filling the cramped cabin as the table gives beneath her axe, snapping in two. Cursing she swings it onto her shoulder hungry eyes seeking out her prey.

Another flash of lightening and and two sets of eyes lock, fire and ice, and Mauve lunges, a grin on her lips.

Axe kisses the flesh, a gentle peck that turns into something more dangerous. Mauve watches with satisfaction as the blade slices through the neck, cleanly through the muscles and tendons and bones that held the broken head in place. With a wet thud it rolls to the ground, coming to a stop by her foot leaving a trail of blood in its path. Mauve kicks it to the side, watching as it rolled across the room, painting the wooden floorboards red.

As the sun had crept higher into the sky, hidden behind angry clouds, its dull shine had bathed the room in a gloomy light that had allowed Mauve to take in the destruction that had occurred. Mauve got a clear visual on her prey, its pelt which had been a pristine  sandy white, was now mattered with blood. Where the other head used to be was a bleeding mangled stump, vital tissues exposed to the world. Even if the beast was able to escape today, she was sure that its death lurked behind of the trees, waiting for the right moment to pounce, claiming its life for its own. And Mauve couldn't have that, she didn't like sharing. This was her kill.

"You mine," she growls, the words that she had spoken yesterday moments before Bellamy had stollen her kill, his spear ripping open the moose neck. Its blood was still in her hair, on her skin, turning her khaki uniform into one close to the colour of mahogany. Bellamy nor Liara were here to take this away from her. This one was her's and she was reaching for it with greedy, desperate hands.

Then the wolf bolts, scrambling desperately for an escape. It fails in its attempts, its body struggling with the loss of blood, with the dramatic removal of a body part that was never meant to be separated. Mauve fastens her axe to her belt before she lunges, her legs pin its withering body to the floor, her arm coming around his throat. She squeezes, an attempt to crush its windpipe, just like she had with that trainer in the training center. But it seems that the wolf was not ready to surrender, frantically it struggles beneath her, its desperate attempt to flee soaking her shirt with blood, making her arms slick and slippery.

Cursing as it manages to drag itself free of her grasps, she pushes herself to her feet, her chest rising and falling frantically as she fought to catch her breath.

Attempt to escape through a window are forgotten, unsteady feet taking off towards the open door. "No you don't,"she gasps taking off after the dying wolf. Its feet just touch grass as Mauve leaps after the mutt her fingers wrap around its tail, clutching tightly as her stomach hits earth, her lungs threatening to knock the air out of her. It yelps, forced to stop in its tracks as she scrambles to get her feet under her, fingers digging in, squeezing so hard that she would not be surprised to hear the crack of bone. She pulls back on it hard, grunting loudly as she dragged its broken, blood soaked body, back towards her. "We ain't finished yet-"

Teeth sink into her shoulder, pain exploding where they sunk into flesh, an attempt to rip her arm from her body the same way as she had torn its head from its shoulders. It shakes her aggressively, forcing her fingers to slip from its tails as its teeth sink in deeper, undoubtedly tearing through tendons, searching for bone. A hiss of pain escapes her lips, one fist pounding into its snout, the other wrapped around its neck in an attempt to dislodge is fangs.

"Son of a bitch!" she growls, the hand that pounded at his snout dropping to her axe.

Pulling it free she strikes.

Teeth refusing to release the flesh of her shoulder her axe nips at the sensitive skin below the mutts ear. A small laceration, barely a graze just enough to have its iron grip, enough for her to rip herself from its clutches. Blood, warm and sticky, runs down her arm, dripping onto the grass beneath their feet. Rolling her neck pain shoots through her, sharp and agonising, causing Mauve to groan. Throwing the mutt to the ground she rolls on top, ignoring the way its hind legs beat into her stomach, claws desperate to slip past her khakis, weakening with each passing minute.

She watches as her blood mingles with its own, dripping onto its face, its snout, its teeth. She could hear the desperation in its whines, the way it hysterically tried to escape her clutched, the prison she had created, her arms the iron bars. Each whimper had her heart racing, her skin buzzing. They washes over her, caressing her cheeks, numbing the pain. And with each passing moment she found herself craving more. She wanted to turn it's dying yelps into terrier agonising cries that filled the arena, that seared itself into the dreams of those who lurked close by.

She lusted after it enough to sacrifice a piece of herself.

Growling she unlocks the prison encasing the pup's head, fingers wrapped around the hilt of her axe she sends it towards the wolfs head. It strikes earth, its head burying into perfectly manicured grass painted with Mauves and the wolfs blood. Panting hard, lustful eyes meet desperate ones. Adrenaline surges through her, pumping through her veins in an attempt to protect her from the inevitable, but its not enough, her lips pulling back into a snarl of pain as teeth bury themselves into her left bicep, the same one that had been ripped open in the confrontation the day before. Stitches are torn, the healing process terminated.

Mauve tires to rip herself from its jaw, grunting as her fingers fought to keep hold on the handle of her axe. She hadn't intended to allow the wolf to get a grip so firm, teeth tearing through muscles and tendons as she ripped her arm from its mouth. Eyes take in the shredded flesh, muscles mangles, tendons frayed. It was a mess, flesh ripped from bone, a gory mess that would have Bubby retching in the dirt, the contents of his stomach pooling at her feet.

Cursing she pulls her axe from her maimed hand, she was going to make the mutt squeal, break its spirit until it was begging her to kill it.