Spitting blood in a jagged line across the dirt, Einarr's chest heaved as he eyed the Kalona stallion on the ground before him. Their battle had been fast and vicious, and closer than he would have liked. They were an even match in both size and skill, though their tactics very different - and the stallion, Viraj, had age and experience on top of it. All in all, it was a victory he could take pride in.
Especially considering he was a Kalona stallion.
Muscles tense, he lashed his tail behind him, feeling the ache of the fight reverberate through his entire body. What had begun as a simple discussion had quickly escalated into a fully-blown encounter, though for the duration of it, Viraj had seemed to rather... enjoy himself. At first, Einarr had been furious, thinking that the stallion wasn't taking him seriously.
He'd been quickly disabused of that notion.
Though he still didn't know how he felt about the entire encounter, except satisfied of his victory, that didn't mean Einarr was through with the stallion. He was a Kalona, of the most hated race, even moreso than Skinwalkers in Einarr's heart. Though he was different from all the others that Einarr had met, there were the undeniable markers of his heritage all over his body: cloven hooves, horns, wings. Spade tail. Sharp teeth.
A demon, in appearance.
Much like himself.
And yet, Viraj had not attacked him blindly. Only when provoked had a battle started, and it had been a fierce one. Though it went against every fiber of his being, Einarr had to grudgingly admit - to himself - that he was intrigued.
Intrigued enough that he didn't immediately leave.
Working his jaw, knowing that it would be bruised before nightfall, he narrowed his eyes as Viraj rose. Even though he had to be sore, the other stallion still took to his feet with grace. Interesting.
"It was a good fight." His own voice, low with a bit of rumble to it habitually, was rougher than usual. He blamed that on the blow he'd taken to his windpipe earlier. "I won by luck."
He wasn't being modest. He wasn't even trying to be kind. Einarr was simply stating fact, and because of that, his tail lashed again. He didn't want to win by luck, especially not against a Kalona. He wanted to win by pure skill.
Running his tongue along his chin, cleaning traces of his own blood, he commanded, "You'll fight me again. Not now, but after we've healed our wounds."
Some might say it was the victor's right to order about the loser, but that wasn't the basis of Einarr's instruction. He'd met a warrior in Viraj, and even though there were parts of him that recoiled at the thought of associating with a Kalona, his fighting spirit wouldn't allow him to turn his back on one so evenly matched with him.
Had he lost the fight, he would insist the same.
A PRIVATE ROLEPLAY BETWEEN DERIVATIVE'S EINARR AND LOGUE'S VIRAJ.