[ P ] Lighting the flame

He is high on the victory, basks in the thought that he is earning money for one paw while prying the said coin from another's paws. He watches his opponent as he is escorted away, harks flickering toward the disappointment Karma had earned from the crowd- how satisfying it was to know he had a paw in an upset. He remembers sharing the same disappointment, or cheers, as he looked on from the crowd when he was younger. His father would bring him and his older brother's to observe, and give an input on the occasional bet. But tonight, he is the one in the arena, and this was a far better feeling. He pivots, appendages carrying him from the arena through the crowd of patrons, shoving through those huddled in their own little circles.

Blood stained his maw, there was an annoying crick in his neck and a small ache in his snout. He would settle in to a corner where the fighters the playground flocked to before or after the fights, there was a small, short ache that flickered from his heart as he waited for the praise from his older brothers, but he was alone tonight- even his father was away, too far buried In the new concerns for Jacob and his army to be here to witness the next generation in the ring. Instead, he snakes between bodies and is stopped by a smaller, earthen woman that offered a drink at Tearlach's paws. "faigh do bhuaidh, Catharnach" (Enjoy your Victory, Catharnach) she coos up to him. He hesitates at first, though after the woman slithers by him, he accepts the drink, but not before watching the woman walk past him. He indulges, taking his drink with him to a less crowded corner, embers blazed across the crowds, ears flickered every which way as they zeroed in on different conversations. He would keep a cover under the guise of leaning in and out of other conversations thay came along as he was approached by others off and on. Another waiter would approach him, offering another drink already. Whiskey was introduced into the MacGregor's lives at young ages, nothing in excess, only sips at certain occasions. Tonight however, he would do more than sip, he would induldge- slowly, of course- because while he was faimilar with the taste, he didn't exactly like the taste, and that was enough to keep he from throwing the liquid to the back of his throat all at once.


I am Speaking."

She watched him from afar; the man who had a slow fight, but ended it victorious. Riding the high of obtaining her first victory, Searla had spent some time watching the other fights, her red eyes calculating as she studied the winners. They would all be opponents one day, and she wanted to ensure she knew everything about each one so as to learn their tricks in the arena. And this one was no different. As he left Karma in the ring, he immediately joined the rest of the wolves in the afterfight, and she watched as a wench offered him a drink.

Time to make her move.

Searla approached the earthen man, noting how much larger he was up close than down in the ring. White eyebrows raised only a fraction before she maintained her composure, and she offered a nod - her way of congratulating a fellow champion. As another waitress came by, she grabbed a glass before sliding in next to the massive fighter.

"Gluaisidh tu gu math," (You move well) the young woman complimented, having been impressed with the way he dodged attacks despite their fight being... lackluster. A small, sly grin lifted her lips, and then she downed her first shot of whiskey.

And damn near choked.

However, she tried to pass it off casually, even as tears sprung to her vivid eyes.

(Note: From here on out, note that she is speaking in Gaelic)