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Andromeda Orchid

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23 | Female ♀

♠ Nationality & Kingdom ♠

Andromeda comes from a purposely small royal lineage. Each pair of rulers only supplying themselves with a single heir to ensure that all the power possible is transferred to a singular being, this way when they rise to power they will be as strong as possible. Ensuring that their kingdom outlives all others.

The name of her kingdom is Marmoor. Situated far to the east, Marmoor is a land of rolling hills and fog. Once you step into its borders, the overwhelming feeling of someone watching you will begin to drive you crazy. That is, unless, you find locals to teach you the ways of their land.

Marmoor is known for the psychic abilties of its inhabitants, particularly the noble and royal lineages. Perceived as an ethereal and rather unnerving group of people.

♠ Appearance ♠

Andromeda is not an initially captivating woman, standard in most aspects that others may be blessed in. With skin that remains supple despite her training, maintaining a smooth fawn colour, Rome’s form has faint dapples of freckles across her shoulders and the bridge of her nose. Beneath this skin is a narrow skeleton sporting vague muscle supports, nothing to boast about. As an overall shape, Andromeda is rectangular with a small favour towards her hips where a little more fat can be located. Her proportions are relatively equal in regards to the length of her legs and torso, having her stand at a steady 5’6”.

Her hands are small with slender fingers, nails always trimmed short and well manicured. In regards to her facial features, they are set in a subtly square face with a strong jaw. Her next noticeable feature would be her nose, standing proudly at the centre with a slightly upturned tip. On either side of her nose sit two narrow eyes with pale light blue irises nestled within them. The colour of ice and glaciers, they’re rather striking against her otherwise darker appearance. Above them are shaped and thick eyebrows, kept in neat condition thanks to regular maintenance.

Her hair is normally kept up out of the way in a simple ponytail or bun, but if it is let down it reaches to the small of her back. However, as its pattern is a mixture of 2c and 3a, if it were straightened a few inches are gained to its length, courtesy of shrinkage. The front pieces are kept shorter to frame her face when she pulls the rest of the mass up. It is the colour of dark deep coffee, the smallest hints of lighter browns towards the ends of her hair.

The air around her carries the natural scent of white florals and citrus. Her voice is a soft and gentle type, pronouncing each letter to its fullest.

♠ Personality ♠

Andromeda is a lively woman, pent up with energy she doesn't know what to do with it all. Be it dancing, singing, racing, as long as it raises her adrenaline and brings that head rush she so craves, she will throw herself into it head first. The enthusiasm she possesses often means the competitive streak announces itself at any given moment. The thrill it delivers to her could match nothing else.

While she is naturally a magnetic personality, the corruption that her gifts bring upon her are extremely draining. Some days, she is a husk of her true self, lurking around and barely speaking. The toll that diving into other’s minds takes on her own blurs the line between her own intentions and thoughts with those of the mind’s she had infiltrated. The more she does it, the more she loses herself.

♠ Abilities ♠

Andromeda is a soul carver. Blessed by her ancestors with the tremendous power of mind control and manipulation. She can slide into the mind’s of others and plant thoughts, memories. Steal them away, make people forget.
The problem arises when she removes herself from their head’s after an assault, the memories linger in her own head. With each powerful memory she steals away, she retains it in her own head. As they begin to stack up, Andromeda is never quite sure which are her own memories and which are hitchhikers in her consciousness.

♠ Background ♠

Despite graduating the academy years prior, she is still the sole heir to Marmoor. Meaning that she must attend all tournaments until she is crowned ruler after her parents. Whilst in the past, other Orchid’s have decided to send champions to represent the kingdom, Andromeda thinks this only makes them appear weak and scared. She has attended the past two tournaments, the first she won, the second it was scraped away from her by a little Ice kingdom brat.

Now she must return again and with her failure to fuel her, Andromeda is out for blood.

♠ Skills & Strengths ♠

✔ Mind games

✔ Stealth

✔ Silver-tongued

✔ Intelligent

♠ Flaws & Weaknesses ♠

✘ Physical strength

✘Stubborn

✘ Vindictive

✘ Closed off

✘ Fear of freezing - courtesy of the ice brat freezing her alive in her last bout.

♠ Motivations ♠

Andromeda must uphold her kingdom's image, proving over and over that she can not only win but dominate the competition. She will continue to thrust herself into the academy year after year until she is crowned ruler of Marmoor. Then she will supply her own heir to the academy and ensure that they are trained to win.

Though, Andromeda is aware of her parents desperate need for the winnings. Where their kingdom resides, there are endless monsterous creatures that roam the lands. With their lack of physical power, eliminating them is currently impossible, mind games do not work on monsters. Instead, they use the winnings to keep their kingdom safe and the coffers are almost empty.

♠ Other ♠

In her second tournament, Andromeda lost to the ice heir. However, even if she did not win the pool of resources, she left him with a parting gift. As the last event in the tournament came to an end, Andromeda slipped into his mind and showed no mercy in her cruelty. Throwing out the most mind sprialing memories she could pull up, changing his own memories to be twisted and dark depictions of reality.

She has heard that in the past year, he had died. Be it from her manipulation or from his own mistakes, Andromeda is hyper aware of the target on her back from the Ice Kingdom. Clearly, when the heir returned home his head was not right. There was only one person who could have accomplished that in the academy.

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Leon Finoviard

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20 | Male ♂

✦ Nationality & Kingdom ✦

Leon hails from the feral lands of the south. In the heart of the heat, there is a lush hideaway where his kingdom offers shelter to all travellers. Nibrook is a land of tropical humidity and powerful animals.

They are known for their impulsivity and feral nature, particularly the royal lines. Though the term royal means a completely different thing to Nibrook than it does to other nations. In Nibrook, if one desires to rule, all they must do it challenge the current leader and win. Often leading to barbaric duals that only end when one of the participants is laying dead in the dirt.

Their people are from all parts of the globe. Though the true natives of the deserts and its tropics are the beasts, these are people who possess animalistic natures and often physical characteristics. An old breed of human that had thought to have been erradicated, but their nation remains strong and dominate the south.

✦ Appearance ✦

Leon stands at a sturdy height of 5’11, but his form is sleek with well built muscles. Broad shoulders house taut muscles that run down his arms and chest, forming well defined regions. This severity of physique continues down his entire body, a cushioning of fat bringing a foreboding size to his figure. Over these muscles may a golden bronze skin that shimmers with youth and vitality, no freckles tarnish his skin. Only a variety of scars, scattered across his entire body, they are all small and faint. He has never been beaten to the point of defeat and therefore sports no brutal injuries that would cause a large scar.

Leon’s face is sharp, pointer than it is square with a narrow and straight nose that divides his face in the midline. Set on either side are a pair of huge amber-yellow eyes with feline like pupils, lines with dark lashes. Tribal marks under his eyes are tattooed with red ink, a slick line under each eye that almost resembles eyeliner, flicks out towards the outer corners.

On his head is a mane of unruly brown-red hair, hacked into a haphazard wolf cut. The ends reach his nape, with two strands that are longer than the rest being braided with twine and beads that hang over his shoulders.

In his mouth are protruding canines, both on the upper and lower arcade. With the lower set being ever so slightly longer. In addition to these points, his nails are sharper, better for grasping and attack in his opinion.

The most outwardly animalistic piece of Leon’s appearance is a tail tail pokes out from his spine, reaching his calves. The long sleek fur that covers the canid tail matches the colour of his hair, flowing behind him as he moves.

He carries a scent of earth, rainfall and amber. With a voice that is loud and sharp, never overly low, but with a coarseness that some may envy.

✦ Personality ✦

This man is often brash and quick to action, racing around his life like a wind up toy. He can quickly find himself spiralling out of control to the point of no return, at which point someone needs to find him and reel him back in.

Though he is kind and offers many compliments, he is very quick to become attached. Once he has decided that someone is his person, he will trail after them like a puppy, though this puppy has the tendency to bite anyone that tries to approach them. This behaviour often forces people away from Leon, much to his horror. But some people like the doting attention of this slightly unstable man, having various amorous experiences both in Nibrook and at the academy.

He is a dependable man, the first to put his own life on the line for those he deems worthy of such an act. Leon’s loyalty is unwavering once it has been places upon a person.

✦ Abilities ✦

Leon is a simple man. His abilities are purely due to his beast heritage, he is holds unholy strength and speed. That is all he holds in his hand, but he must be smart about how he uses these gifts. If he just goes in punching blind, then he will likely be struck down by some magical force in seconds.

✦ Background ✦

His mother challenged the old leader of Nibrook and won, crowning herself the leader of their people. Thus, she has defended her crown from many challengers all whilst raising Leon and his younger siblings.

Leon has two younger brothers and one younger sister, he would give his life to ensure their safety. He feels a heavy weight of responsibility to supply them with the best role model possible, striving to be the strongest and fiercest member of Nibrook's ranks. That image is begining to take form as he enters the tournament.

✦ Skills & Strengths ✦

✔ Physical strength.

✔ Bravery (or stupidity)

✔ Speed + Agile

✔ Doting & Loyal (borderline obsessive)

✦ Flaws & Weaknesses ✦

✘ Impulsive

✘ A little manic

✘ Overwhelming energy

✘ Lack of filter

✦ Motivations ✦

There has not been a tournament since he graduated, now at 20 he wants to prove himself to his people. To ensure that he is not challenged upon his arrival home, to keep his family in charge, he must prove that he is the strongest. Therefore, he is willing to bring a savagery to the tournament others may find barbaric.

✦ Other ✦

Full name: Peter Lois

Nickname : Peter by most, “Pete” by close friends

Age : 25

Birthday : August 15th

Gender : Male

Height : 5'11

Build : Peter is lean, and even though he isn't horribly tall, he gives the illusion that he is taller than he is.

Appearance : Peter's hair is jet black that shimmers in the sun, and is always neatly groomed back, small waves rippling through his hair, finger streaks are often found in it. His eyes are a bright green that almost resemble an emerald. There is a friendly shine to his eyes, making him appear approachable. His smile reaches his eyes, lighting up the room that he is in.

He is a well groomed man, his face clean shaven, and there never seems to be a hair out of place. Although he is well put together, he is quiet and it shows in what he wears. He dresses casually, a button up shirt, and tan slacks with light brown shoes and belt.

Distinguishing features : Peter has a small, horizontal scar under his left eye

Posture / stance : Peter always seems to be relaxed

Basic Personality : Peter is a warm, bubbly person that enjoys the company of basically anyone. He is the heart of the party, and always seems to have wonderful things to say about everyone89. He doesn't hold grudges, nor does he stay mad at anyone. Peter is the most forgiving person that you'll meet, and to add onto that his spirit is incredibly generous.

Peter comes across at first as naive, airheaded and idiotic, but he really isn't. He may not be book smart, but he can survive on his own in any outside environment, and do it in such a way to not destroy the biome.

Much like his kingdom, he holds a strong connection to nature. It allows him to thrive in the hardest conditions.

Love Language : Touch

Family Relationships

In family terms, he is very friendly with all of his immediate family, even his three younger sisters.

Full name: Dion Valliant

Nickname : “Hey asshole”

Age : 24

Birthday : September 7th

Gender : Male

Kingdom : Mist

Height : 6’1

Build : Muscular

Appearance : Dion has a presence to him when he steps into a room, until he doesn't want anyone to notice him. His mist-colored eyes with a dark rim around them look to be in a constant state of boredom as with the rest of his expression. The roots of his hair are black with the rest of it being naturally blonde. His hair is always done to his liking, purposely messy with his fringe framing his face, allowing the blonde to bring out his eyes. Dion's eyebrows are dark, and he has a light classic full beard. The boyish grin that he possessed when he was younger has morphed into a flashy smirk. His skin holds a tan hue to it, almost as if he spends a lot of time outside.

Dion possesses a charismatic charm that oozes off of him between his flashy, yet cold smile to the way that he raises his right eyebrow when he hears something that he likes, he tends to be memorable. That doesn't mean that he isn't good at hiding in the shadows. He is often found in his favorite black trench coat that has clearly been well loved, its wooden buttons having had to be fixed many times. He brings with him when traveling his black leather suitcase, and his black hat that matches his coat with a raven's feather in the brim that shines a vibrant purple when the sun catches it. His shoes and belt match, and his black dress shirt and black slacks are always neat. Even though he doesn't need it, he carries a mahogany wooden cane with a raven's head on the top of it, the eye of the raven a sparkling ruby, and when prompted, the handle of the cane pops out to reveal a short blade. His hands are never not gloved in public.

Dion has an unusual bond with a blind raven (hence the head of the cane) and it is never too far from him. Often it sits on his shoulder like his own death parrot.

Distinguishing features : Dion has a small scar running through his left eyebrow after an altercation with his younger brother.

Posture / stance : Dion holds himself with grace, but his body language is always cold, and cunning.

Basic Personality : Dion is a lot of things. He is sly, and manipulative, but most importantly, he doesn't play by the rules. “Dion is… problematic.” A teacher once told his mother after he had pulled off a heist on the school's files just so that he could get to know his classmates on ‘a better level’.

He is cold, and always has some sort of comment to add, but his charm makes him popular within a crowd. It seems that people flock to him because of his confidence. When most people think of Dion, they think of a player, but when he isn't smiling for the crowd, you will learn that he is incredibly intelligent. He always seems to be prepared for everything, and nothing bothers him. It seems that the sharpest sword can't pierce his skin. When he isn't reading, or playing chess against himself (because he has no friends to play with) you can find him painting. Dion tends to be a very loyal person, but he isn't overwhelming about it.

Much like his people, Dion is sly, and quick, hiding in the shadows, often moving unnoticed. He is a skilled assassin, and while he'd been hired in the past, he has taken a break from it, from the public eye at least. He has a scary good shot, and is a blood shifter, allowing him to better his skills.

Attachment style : Emotionally distant and Avoidant attachment in the beginning

Coping : Repression

Personal Ethic : Loyalty

Love Language : Leaving gifts around for a partner to find, often it’ll be something that reminds Dion of the partner.

Off the coast of the mainland, sits an island. Large enough to warrant its own name, Nanram Isles, surrounded by smaller protrusions of land. Encompassing the entire landmass are a cacophony of spells and incantations to protect what lies within.

The Academy, as it is simply known, is home to the next generation of the entire continent’s people. Nobility and royal families send their children here to coax out secrets about other kingdoms, form alliances and destroy potential threats. Described as a peaceful sanctuary free from the burdens of the war stricken world they all live in, but all parent’s know what they are signing their children up for. Especially the royals. A massacre. Be it of lives, honour, image, it can all be destroyed in the tournament.

The first assembly of the year to announce the tournament, all relevant students are gathered in the courtyard. Settled in the centre of the main island, limestone ruins of sky high pillars and archways, covered in encroaching plants, trailing up their bodies. A mosaic of natural earthy stone lines the floor, depicting a rising sun and a crescent moon, currently hidden away by the numerous figures occupying the space.

Younger students look on from the higher buildings, from the windows in their dorms, speculating which royal will be the first to fall and who will rise above the rest.

---

The clearing was bustling with people, milling around one another as they waited for the headmaster to commence the gathering. Leon found himself in the centre of the crowd, his tail tucked close to his leg to avoid it being trodden on. He had been stuffed into the restrictive uniform, the collar tugged at his neck and made it difficult to breathe. Only one more day of conformity before he would be able to commence the tournament. He had already been informed by his mother that he was to be participating this year, and this year was special. What made it special, she neglected to tell him.

The sun glared off of the alabaster limestone ruins of the gathering space, runes carved into the tall pillars encircling them all. It was difficult to look ahead to the raised platform where the few teachers lingered, waiting for their superior to speak. He had always enjoyed the bright open space of the courtyard, though when there were this many people it made it hard to enjoy.

That year he had barely focused on his theoretical studies, why should he? He had no magical capacity, simply himself. Why learn the theory of how to cast a spell he would never be able to wield? Stupid and his family were in agreement. Instead, he committed himself to practising for the tournament, as that was all that really mattered in the end. They needed the supplies that would make up the winnings, but so did every other kingdom.

He had already thwarted the eldest heir from Misebury; he was now dead and buried as a result. Serves him right for taking the cowards route, sneaking outside his room to aim his bow inside. Luckily, Leon was prowling outside that evening and had caught the older heir by surprise. However, that meant a more practiced fighter would be sent in his sted, that or an older heir would be his undoing. A terribly honourable person is what they had claimed Misebury's heir was, Leon scoffed at the notion, what honourable man would try to kill his rival in their sleep.

“Silence.” His voice boomed out across the courtyard, the man was a strong magic user, clearly using some kind of spell to project his voice. After a minute of final shuffling and mumbling, he continued.

“You all know why we are gathered here today.” A few murmurs of excitement. “After years of dedication to your schooling, today you all graduate and depart from this island as fully formed and distinguished individuals. Ready to bring back your knowledge to your kingdoms and bring forth a new wave of innovation and greatness.” Leon was growing impatient, he did not care about these other people, they were lesser than them. They would go home, work on a farm, die on a battlefield or some other un-heroic manner. He would rule the kingdoms. They were ants for him to squash.

“But for some,” The man’s face split into a wide feline grin before continuing. “For some of you, this is the beginning of your route to glory.” He raised his suited hands high up to the sky as he spoke. “The heirs of the kingdoms shall commence their training and tournament as of tomorrow. As soon as the moon rises to its highest point, we shall begin the spectacle!” The sick joy in his voice was poignant, if the grin wasn’t enough of a give away. Every teacher had bets laid on the tournament, who would kill who, who would give up, who would simply run. Anything and everything was up for grabs. However, Leon had counted the heirs that loomed around the halls and there were not eight. Nowhere near eight. Unusual, the rulers of the kingdoms seemed to be popping out children every two seconds.

There was one person he knew would be returning. She had not been crowned that year and it was widely known the leaders of Marmoor did not produce more than one heir. She would keep returning until she became the ruler of Marmoor and even then she must attend until her own child is of age.

“I am sure some of you have noticed. We do not have a representative from each kingdom here with us today amongst the graduating cohort.” The headmaster stepped to the side and flicked a robed arm to the heavy veil of curtains behind him, turning his own head to gaze upon them with a giddiness that made him look unhinged. “Filling out our ranks, champions have been sent to compete alongside this year’s graduates.” With a flare, he flicked his wrist and the curtains whipped back to reveal a small collection of people waiting behind them.

Leon’s heart leapt from his chest as he raised to his toes in an attempt to get a better look but he was too far away to make out faces just yet. The crowd began to murmur with excitement upon one particular person’s arrival to the stage. His tail was as stiff as a board until his locked onto a woman clad in wispy ribbons of laced fabric, the tiny gems glittering in the harsh sunlight. Andromeda.

His tail swished from side to side at the sight of her. He had admired her in the past games, a dominating force that had stuck to the shadows like a viper prepared to strike. The second year she had returned after graduating had not been so successful, the crushing defeat had made his blood boil as he observed. She was everything he was not, poised, graceful and intelligent. Good gods, was she intelligent, that’s how she had won the first tournament.

Beside him, he could feel the slip in emotion amongst the other participating graduates. It coaxed him to twist his neck, eyes flashing with interest as he observed the myriad of expressions within their ranks. Leon had never really been one to stick with close friends, more of a floating presence among all circles.

He recognised a few important faces, his rival heirs. Slyhelm and Alderburn's youngest heirs were closest to him, one stiff backed and the other looking blissfully unaware of the dangers they were going to be inviting upon themselves in this tournament.

---

Andromeda’s eyes squinted ever so slightly as the curtains were pulled back, in the darkened area she had not been able to pick out who was who. Instead, she remained silent where she was, waiting for the blistering light to pierce through the curtains. As it did, she took a few pointed steps forwards with the others, graceful in her movement and terribly light-footed. The quiet click of her white-gold heels against the stone is the only sound for the briefest moment.

Wrapped around her form was a mixture of silken fabrics and light lace pearlescent in its colour. Not something she would have selected for herself, but it was what her father had wanted. A representation of Marmoor, not of herself. It was a swirling delicate dress that had been tailored to her figure specifically, glittering in the sunlight like an unearthly siren. The tails of the fabric shifted gently in the breeze as Andromeda met the eyes of the graduates, all staring up at the gathered heirs. They looked small and meek in comparison to the heavy presence that now dominated the stage.

“These champions have been sent by their respective kingdoms to participate in the tournament and bring glory to their home lands.” The headmaster raised his voice to combat the lifted volume of the crowd gathered. “The lovely exception being these two heirs from Marmoor and Mausegate,” He gave pause to land his shrew eyes upon her. “Andromeda Orchid, returning for her third year as the Marmoor heir.” His voice dripped with a sickness that Andromeda recognised, he had a bet upon her. Whether he had bet to her victory or demise, that was a more difficult thing to conclude.

"And Rheagan Ashwood!" The headmaster called out the older heirs name, eyes bright with a flame that betrayed his sickening glee at the promise of carnage that the Mausegate heir would bring. Rheagan was the eldest heir from Mausegate, sheilding his younger sisters from returning, he fought each tournament for the same reason Andromeda returned. It would be weak to send a lesser champion in their stead, to present the true dominance of their houses, they needed to send the best. Andromeda and Rheagan were honed weapons, produced, trained and aimed solely at this tournament.

Her painted lips curled in the familiar fake smile as she dipped her torso in a practiced curtsy, the corners of her eyes creased so that nobody could see the dullness in them. These gathered people did not care if she won or died, in fact many would be elated to see her guts torn from her ribs in a dramatic fashion. That thought brought a sly glint to her pale eyes as she returned to standing upright, delicate hands pulled in front of her midsection as the headmaster began to call off the heir’s names.

With each name that was spoken, the heir was summoned to the stage. They were to be made spectacles for the masses, which would begin tonight at the ball. An extraordinary show of wealth from all families, glorious outfits, exotic wines and many lies.

The crowd chattered around him, the noise consuming him as he hung at the back. These people that surrounded him were not to be trusted. Most of them were airheads that thought small talk was useful in any way. Dion thought that they were all wasting their time. It had been requested that the eldest of the kingdoms go to the stage when their names were called, but Dion was hesitant. He didn't want to be put on show like some rat dog in someone's purse. “Look at them. Let's put bets on who lives.” He sighed and looked around. It was fun to do that on his own time, especially when the prey gave chase.

His cold gaze lingered on the stage, babbling was all he heard. He stood up from the wall he leaned on and walked around the outside of the group. Some people smiled at him, he returned the favor with a small smile and nod. He wanted to internally roll his eyes. Why did people smile at each other?

Dion stopped next to the stage, glaring up at the woman that strutted past. This time he did roll his eyes. His glowering gaze fell to his left, someone whose glare ran deeper than his own. Lumi. The ice Kingdom heir. He was the second son of the family, two of three siblings. His older brother had been destroyed by the woman getting paraded on the stage. The man's white hair fell over his lake blue eyes, his pale skin dotted with freckles that always had reminded Dion of snow falling. Lumi was the one person that could challenge Dion's glare. The two glaring men locked eyes for a moment before Lumi turned to go up the stage.

“Ah, this is great!” Dion turned to see a beaming smile next to him, accompanied by startling green eyes that stared up at Andromeda, his eyes full of admiration. Dion wrinkled his nose and stepped away, trying to put room between him and the Forest heir. He'd always thought that the Forest kingdom were very similar to hippies. They were anti-war, anti-trials and most of their subjects walked around barefoot. Dion had spent time there for a job, and it had been a culture shock. The bright clothes, lots of fake gold jewelry and the bare feet. He'd never gotten over that part.

-

Peter was happy just to be a part of the crowd, cheering everyone on as they got up to the stage. How could you be so rude as to not lift the people you would get to know over the next few weeks? Most of them wouldn't walk away from this, so you might as well be nice to them. Peter joined the rest of the heirs by the stage. His smile was bright and he was saying hi to everyone. When people walked past he gave them a thumbs up, and a large smile. His shoulder grazed someone else and he turned to see a dark glare his way. His smile faded as he stared at the man dressed in black. He gave him a smile and turned back to the stage.

-

When Dion's name was called he elegantly tucked his cane under his right arm with his glover hands. “Thank you.” He told the employee who cleared the path for him. From the brownish-red hair and deep tan skin it was clear that he was following behind Leon. His feelings conflicted on the man. Leon was loud, and impulsive, everything Dion wasn't, but he hadn't really gotten to know the man, so truly he had no right to judge him… he still did.

As they came out, Dion nodded at Omen the Shadow heir. The Shadow and Mist Kingdoms were close. He'd often run into Omen while working, and the Shadow kingdoms was the one territory where the Mist Kingdom wouldn't take a job due to a peace treaty signed by both ends. The treaty however didn't extend to the trials, and Omen was the first on Dion's list to take out.

Peter joined everyone up on the stage, he was the last one up, and he proudly stood with everyone else, even if there was tightness in his chest. He knew that he was an easy target. Peter, unlike the rest of the heirs, didn't have a true “power”. The rest of his family did, but he'd been born completely without. He still could feel his connection with nature, and it's life coursing through his veins, and the presence of animals or humans nearby, he couldn't do anything about it other than to survive. He was awful with a bow and arrow (firearms were banned in the forest kingdom) as he couldn't bring himself to kill anything. He'd gone vegan at age eight. He glanced down the line, worry gnawing at him. Just like that, all of the competitors were in one spot. Let the games begin.

| Andromeda Orchid |

There was always an uncanny beauty in the way the gathered children gawked in awe at the royal lineages as they were lined up for the slaughter. Whisperings of admiration, hatred, mockery, sarcasm. The air vibrated with the anticipatory energy of the kingdom's children, they hungered for the inevitable bloodshed that would arise from this tournament.

Despite the premise being one of good faith, it was a weak attempt at hiding what it truly was. A chance to cut the legs out from under your enemies, to steal their bloodlines of fresh heirs, to render their rule obsolete.

Andromeda’s mind turned over like the nearby roiling ocean with those thoughts. The utter disgust she felt when those children stared up at her, the way they grinned, excited for her crystalline blood to be smeared across the school’s halls. It was no different the last two times she attended.

Her glory attained when she was eighteen, in the graduating class of the academy, it was child’s play to win that time. Her competitors were mostly champions sent by other kingdoms, knights and swordsmen that proved rather futile against her upper echelon of magical potency.

The second year however…She did not miss the way ice hot eyes bore into her skin. The sensation made her skin itch, crawl with discomfort. There was no need to turn and see whom that glare originated from, not when she still received scrawled notes that promised death to her bloodline from the Northern lands. Andromeda had almost felt bad when she heard of the heir’s demise, then she remembered the way he had cornered her after the tournament had been completed. After he had beaten her black and blue, broken her bones into shattered messes of organic matter. The fiery look of sadistic satisfaction as the ice heir made his oath to slaughter her.

That wasn’t his fatal mistake, threats meant nothing to her. What was his mistake? He turned around after making that threat and she cut through his mind as though it were paper. Clawing at his memories, ripping them to shreds and planting the seeds of psychosis within him that inevitably manifested into his death.

Good riddance. One less arrogant man to play king.

Andromeda’s face remained loose, almost angelic in the manner she held herself, a soft smile pulling at her lips. Not a hint of her expression nor posture betrayed the sickening thoughts that lay behind her pale eyes as they stared out across the amalgamation of heads.

“In these coming months, these brave souls will forge ahead to bring honour to their kingdoms! They shall compete for precious resources and the satisfaction of besting their peers.” The headmaster continued his insufferable speech that he repeated every year. Andromeda could recite it by heart.

“Tonight, we shall welcome these esteemed individuals to the Academy with the annual Tournament Ball! Where they are welcome to display their family’s power to you all!” This brought around another bout of excited chatter from the crowd.

Another irritating thing they had to attend, a gala meant to display their inherent superiority above the rest of the population. To ensure that no unruly upstart from a noble family gets any ideas about usurping their rulers. She never deigned to display her ability at that event, after all the only other person that could experience it would be her victim.

“Ready yourselves, this year shall be one we will never forget!”

With that, the heirs were guided back behind the drapery, into the humid hallway behind the elevated tiles. The sunlight barely managed to dapple across the old limestone, giving life to the ivy that encircled the pillars holding the structure upright. One side was open to a small green courtyard with a great green tree that struck up from the earth below. Decorated with handcrafted trinkets and tokens of tribute, prayers for better grades and ones to not be slaughtered in the tournament.

As the curtains were drawn closed behind the heirs, Andromeda let out the smallest sigh, a mere twitch of her shoulders before she rounded on the others. Her movements slow and calculated, graceful as she placed her hands together in front of her.

The action making the silky ribbons of fabric dance around her form almost in slow motion, aiding the etheral image that Marmoor so often portrayed. An aura that Andromeda herself did not embody in the slightest, but she had become a master at pretending to be that delicate little Marmoorian flower that her lineage claimed her to be.

“I wish you all the greatest of luck during these trials, I hope to see you all alive at the end.” Andromeda dipped her head, fluttering her eyes closed in cordial politeness. As she lifted her heard, the Marmoor heir let her gaze settle on those keenest glaring daggers directly back towards her.

| Leon Finoviard |

Once his name was called out, Leon had made his way leisurely towards the raised platform that held not only his idols but his enemies. It was exhilarating. The electrical energy that channeled through him, unable to be kept under control, his tail snapped from side to side, slamming its muscular form into the legs and hips of other students until he stepped up. Once up there, he looked out across his classmates and finally felt satisfaction that they were looking at him now as not simply their prestigious classmate, but as the beast of his homeland sent to bring bloody glory to his kin.

The uniform that clad him felt foreign, it always had, but in that moment he felt as though the buttoned shirt and slacks were burning his skin. It was not who he was, all of this prim and proper nonsense that the other kingdoms played at. It was futile, they were all trying to kill each other so why not be honest and open about it. Games were for children.

There were little thoughts spared for the other tributes by his side, they weren’t cause for concern at the moment, once again they were too worried about appearances to cut him down in front of this crowd.

By the time they were being escorted to the hallway behind the curtains, Leon was fixated on that evening’s event. He could finally be done with the pretending to be a lap dog, withholding his strength so as to not upstage his peers during duals or training. Tonight he could shine as he was meant to, to make his mother and kingdom proud. Leon’s hands flexed into fists and relaxed, repeating the action feverishly as the groups echoed footsteps came to a halt.

Andromeda’s level voice sliced through the silence with a practiced ease that drew even Leon’s distracted mind towards her, his eyes darting towards her like a cornered animal. As much as he admired her strategic work, he was still terrified of what she could do.

It was only by pure luck that this Marmoor heir was not a fanatic, he had heard of previous heirs sending themselves insane with their power. Over indulging on their cruel desires to torment and ruin their rivals to the point of no return, to where their heads were no longer their own. No idea who they were, what events they remembered were stolen from others, implanted or true memories. Andromeda was not a fool like them. That made her dangerous.

In saying that, the others that stood by his side were just as sharp and capable of ending his life, if they played their cards right. It was only then, as Andromeda addressed them, that Leon took in the faces around him. Imagine his surprise when he made eye contact with Caspian Thresh. The man he had killed mere days ago. His tail halted behind him, sticking out from his body and puffing up as the hairs were stimulated by the adrenaline that began to seep into his muscles.

The Misebury heir only smirked, eyes glistening with a knowing that Leon couldn’t understand. There had been a trick played here. Who had he killed that night? What poor soul had he ripped to pieces instead of this smug bastard that stood before him?

Leon’s lip twitched with the beginnings of a snarled threat, eyebrows angling harshly down towards his predatory eyes. Feet shifting to take a strong step towards Caspian when a second voice chimed up making him freeze on the spot.

“I am sure you mean that with all your shrivelled up heart, Andromeda.” Rheagan’s voice was amused despite the insult that the tall woman threw towards the only other woman in the group. “I am most assured by your good will, you bestowed that upon last year’s competitors as well, I trust?” She continued, red-painted lips pulling into a sincere smile as she looked at the men, notably locking onto Lumi. “I’m sure she wished your brother the same thing before she tore his memories from his head and sent him tumbling into insanity.”

Leon blinked, his spine straightening as he felt the shift in energy. It had been tense before, but now there were sparks of emotion washing between them all, daring one of them to make the first strike. Gods, he hoped Caspian made a comment, he would slug that handsome prick square in the jaw.

The altered chemistry of the group made his skin feel slick with the beginnings of sweat. He always ran hot, and with this humid hallway and the heavy tension that strung between them all, it was impossible not to feel pent up. He itched to strike out with similar barbed remark to simply to punch them, anyone would do. Even if he could pelt his fists into the wall, it would help relieve the build up of energy within his body.

It was a fatal flaw. He cared too much. Obsessive almost in all aspects of his life, once something had his attention he would not let go of it until he had either killed it or satisifed his desire to control or possess it. Perhaps due to his more barbaric roots, growing from the nomadic group where it was kill or be killed, it paid to be aggressive and impulsive. However, those traits did not mingle well with the higher society of the other kingdoms.

| Dion |

Dion gazed down at those childish faces staring back up at him, their eyes lit by the possibility of those standing above them to be slaughtered. Hmm. That was a nice thought. He already had a mental list of who he was going to take out first. It felt glorious to be standing above everyone else, knowing that they had bets on their lives. It was a funny feeling, after all, how would it all play out? Only the future could tell, and luckily for Dion, he wasn't afraid of change.

The whispers began after they stepped off the stage. Dion brought up the back. He walked silently with his rosewood cane tucked under his arm, his gloved finger tracing the ruby eye of the obsidian raven head. He glanced up to see his raven staring down at him, his beak open slightly as if he were tasting the air around him. The bird flapped his wings before taking off again. Dion's eyes traced the bird's movement before he returned to the conversation before him.

He stood silently watching the conversation go back and forth before rolling his eyes. “How dare you speak of the dead in such a manner.” Lumi sneered coldly, “Such a shame he hadn't finished you off,” The white haired boy rolled his eyes, nose wrinkled in disgust, “I mean, he should have let you float out in the sea for the rest of the century.” Dion found it all assuming, leaning back and enjoying the show, a cruel smile on his face. “Tiger Boy,” He said, reaching up and tapped the man on the shoulder, “Could you quiet the tail? It's hitting my ankles. I'm trying to listen.” His cool gaze met the beast's eyes, he gave him a smile, “Please?” He asked, tilting his head, hoping that either the large cat man would hold his tail, or move away from him. He knew Leon. It wasn't particularly well considering that the man was.. loud and rambunctious, always full of energy that funnily enough reminded him of a dog. He supposed that instead of saying “he knew Leon.” that “He knew of Leon” was a bit more fit for the situation. He stood up, moving away from the group as their angry howls echoed in the hall. He glanced out the window before glancing up, hearing the small sounds of a bird hopping about on the clay shingles. He chuckled, and a moment later he saw the familiar face peeking through the window. “Hello there.” He said warmly as he opened it, letting the bird inside. The bird hopped over before walking calmly up Dion's arm. He stood on his right shoulder for a moment before settling down. Dion stroked the black bird’s head with a finger before returning to the group.

“Dion.” He raised an eyebrow at Omen who stood behind him. “Can… Can we make a truce?” Dion’s eyes narrowed. Hmm this was an interesting predicament. Omen was the first on his list to be removed from the game. “Sure.” He said with a sly smile before moving off into the crowd. The man was excited for the ball tonight. He had vials of poison with peoples names on them. Was there a rule against killing at the gala? Probably. Would it stop him? No. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to claw his way through the crowd to exit. “Excuse me, hey! How're you Dawson?” He asked with a smile as he slid by, “Ah, Al, hello!” He gave a nod before going to stand by himself, waiting to be dismissed

|Dion| Mist Kingdom |

The candles flickered in the dark, dancing among themselves in a wallowing grace, leading the way up the staircase in a waltz that only the flames knew the steps to. Leather shoes soles gentle against the wooden floors, a gloved hand reached out to brush against the stone wall. He couldn't feel much of the texture through the black gloves but he could feel how cold the stones ran. The breeze that the flames flickered in blew his hair with it ever so slightly. He was going in the right direction.

Dion reached the top of the stairs, his breathing evenly distributed throughout his chest. His hand steady as he reached out for the door handle in the dark. The door opened with a creak. The figure laying in an uncomfortable bed didn't stir. His blue eyes flicked towards the window in which the curtains blew in the wind. It was a clear night, the only light in the prison of which Dion stood was from the moon. He slowly approached the bed, pausing to stare at the face of an older gentleman. The man's face was pale in the white washed light. “Hello there.” Dion whispered. His heart felt heavy and his breath got caught in his throat. His shoulders drooped as he stared down at the man that laid before him. “I'm so sorry.” He whispered, beginning to prepare the room to work.

He stepped out of the tower into the refreshing night air. He normally was heartless, a feared mortal among his kingdom for his cold and undeniable work ethic, having been praised for it since he was a boy, but this time was different. He swore to never do what he just did to family… and yet here he was. If nothing else he was a puppet to the power hungry man that he called his father. He pushed his feelings down and began to descend away from his problems. He heard a fluttering of wings above him followed by a small caw. “I am well aware I'm late.” He told the raven as it landed on his shoulder, the black cloak's hood falling off his head. He needed to return as quickly as possible. Tonight was the ball. So many heirs dancing with their inevitable end and so might he.

-

Dion fixed the cuff on his left sleeve, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked tired, but the black suit that held his kingdom's flag on it fit him well. His black gloves were traded out for a white pair, and the hat that often adorned his head was left behind. A certain bird sat on a perch in the corner of the room. “You have to stay here Poe.” Dion said, staring at the intelligent creature. “I don't want you to get hurt.” He said softly as he went over to offer the winged friend a piece of a cracker.

Without a warning a black haired man burst into the room. Dion looked up, his face going stone cold as he stared at the man, his own mist colored eyes staring back at him. Although Dion had boots on that went up to his knees he still managed to bow to the King. One leg under himself, the other in front, the king's hand in Dion's as the man stared down at him in his deep bow. “Is it done?” He sneered, his eyes soulless. “Yes sire.” Dion responded, not meeting his father's eyes. “Good.” The man paused, “I want you to leave a good impression tonight, do you hear?” Dion gave a slight nod. “I couldn't hear you.” “Yes sir.” Dion said softly before standing. “I will make you proud.” His eyes lingered on the bird behind his father, wondering when this would all be over.

-

The ball was very much alive when Dion arrived. There was a smirk on his cocky face, his mahogany cane in hand, the ruby eye on the raven's head shining in the light. This was a hell of a feeling to be here. He laughed as he stood on the balcony above staring down at the crowd as the people mingled. He ran a hand through his hair before starting down the stairs to join the rest of his peers. His eyes were cold, but there was a playful flame behind them as his hand ran along the railing to the marble staircase.

Omen was at the bottom of the staircase, it was obvious that he'd been waiting for Dion. In his hand was a glass of what appeared to be Champagne. “Well thank you Omen.” Dion said, sliding it smoothly out of the man's hands as he walked past, the train of his suit flowing out behind him as he joined everyone else. He didn't speak to anyone, simply walked through the crowd, watching them part like a wave. He smirked as his eye caught the eye of the forest freak, Patrick was it? He'd be easy bait that was for sure.

It didn't take long before Dion was sitting in a room by himself, glasses scattered around him, as he stared blurry eyed at the floor. He didn't want to die. Why did these trials exist? He'd tried to hide his feelings for so long but the dark thoughts had swirled in his head for so long, the poison that his father had planted seeding. “If you don't win, don't bother coming home. There will be a price on your head.” His father sneered at him when he was simply six years old, and every year after that.

Dion wasn't sure what had happened after he'd left that room, and what he did remember was all mixed together. He didn't know half of the people he had been messing around with. At some point he had an odd party hat that he'd swindled off of someone. He'd traded a single sock with someone, and his cuffs were unbuttoned. He was on the balcony, chuckling to himself about what a great way to end his last night of freedom. He wasn't wearing his own shoes, later he'd remember he'd lost a bet and so he stood on the balcony in a pair of shoes that weren't his, his own shoes tucked away safely with his cane. He stood there, admiring the view. What was supposed to be an uptight night had veered off the rails.

He turned and fell into someone, “I swear,” he said softly, “I don't normally fall when I try to stand.” He said, stopping when he realized who it was. Leon. He looked at the man, taking a step back, suddenly cold again, his walls going up. He looked down at his undone cuffs, and his shoes and seemed to snap out of it. His eyes fell onto the man's tail and how it flicked back and forth. “Stressed?” He asked, his body language relaxed, almost as if he'd let himself be vulnerable. “It's alright.” He said with a shrug stepping out of the man's space, “You know, this might be the last time we see each other alive.” Dion stopped himself from saying anymore. “Thank you for, uh, catching me.” He glanced over at the man before his eyes went to the moon. There were so many thoughts running through Dion's mind as he stared at the moon. Where would he be tomorrow at this time? He'd been running from this for so long, scared of it and now here it was. The trial was finally here.

Andromeda Orchid | Marmoor, Arcane Kingdom

It wasn’t the sharp looks that pierced her skin, nor the muttering of wishing for her death that disturbed Andromeda, not at all. It was the way the sheer, glittering tulle hung from the four poster bed in such a beautiful manner, like mist on an early morning. It was the purest of silks in pearl white that were draped across all of the walls, the purity of the room they had given her was unpalatable. It matched the grotesquely delicate clothing she had been shipped here with, the soft fabrics that oozed elegance, the sparkling gems that spoke of her wealth.

None of this was her, it was an illusion, as was most of her life. To the other kingdoms, Marmoor was the pinnacle of upper class, never one to bite first and always prepared to host visitors. Little did they know, when the other kingdoms people came to visit, it was all an elaborate show. The parlors and gaming halls they were ushered into were built for the sole purpose of enforcing the angelic image of Marmoor and the Orchid lineage. When there were no visitors, the exquisite building sat empty and cold, the Marmoor people forbidden from entering. Instead, they inhabited densely packed cottages that were in shambles, eating bread and whatever scraps they could find.

Her people were starving. Her parents sat in an ivory tower with the funds and power to help them, dining on the most expensive meats and wines the world had to offer. Dressed in clothing that could pay for a commoner’s entire family for years. It made her sick. The embodiment of luxury, the room was an extension of her parents and the manner in which they ruled. Andromeda’s jaw tensed as the door closed behind her, no longer being observed, she let her teeth grind against each other. Stalking into the room, muscles strung tight, she paused in the centre of the room.

It was quiet, only the smallest of crackles came from the fireplace, the only comfort in the entire space. Her clothes felt wrong on her skin, sticking to her in a way that made her stomach turn.

There was little choice, she had to keep up her appearances, her parents appearances. No room for error when you are the sole heir to an entire kingdom. So she would suffer, if that meant bringing home the prize for her people once again, then so be it.

---

The hall was alive by the time Andromeda had arrived, a lilting tune carried out from the centre stage where a small quartet was playing joyously. No doubt, being paid handsomely for this event. Noblemen mingled across the floor, some spoke in small circles, others seduced in dark corners.

Once more, Andromeda was clad in finery that made her skin crawl, a soft silken number that fitted her form perfectly. It pooled at her feet, beneath which she wore white heels encrusted with diamonds, not that anyone could see them. The neckline delicate, dipping down her chest in a deep V, no straps to be found. Laying softly over her collarbone and shoulders, a fox fur, dapples white and dove gray.

Upon noticing her arrival, a short announcement declared her appearance, to which the woman offered a polite smile and headed into the bustling of the main floor.

What could she achieve tonight? Unfortunately, not much. In previous years she had managed to weasel her way into the chambers of some of the heirs, conning them into believing she was oh so enamoured with them, that her head was woozy from the alcohol. Then they would let her get close enough for a glimpse into their minds, their mental barriers non existent thanks to their intoxication. The next morning, her victims thought that they had just bedded the Marmoor heir. Only for the deepest horrors of their minds to begin to bleed out into their vision, making them flee from a trial or even fling themselves into the open arms of death.

Unfortunately, after two years of this tactic, the heirs had cottoned onto her tricks.

She lingered near the band, watching the twirls of the dancers, in her hand a flute of champagne balanced, untouched. The most she could do was observe. As the night went on, the noise rose and the tone of the music melted into one with a faster pace.

It didn’t go unnoticed, the way that Dion was staggering. Surprising her slightly, she had expected him to have a little more decorum at such an event, clearly she had misjudged. Her predator eyes glided across the room, following his movements until Dion pushed his way out of a set of balcony doors and vanished from her sight.

Almost immediately, a familiarly reddish tail slipped out into the night after him. Andromeda’s lips curled subtly, pleased with that development. Her flute remained untouched as she turned from the dancefloor, seeking out another heir to focus on.

It would’ve been difficult to choose a target, if it wasn’t for the loud corner of chatter that drew her attention. Within it, Peter was mingling with a set of noble women and another heir, Rheagan Ashwood. That was most certainly an interesting development. Rheagan had never attended this event in the past, why was he here now and why was he trying to seduce these mice alongside the Alderburn heir?

Leon Finoviard | Nibrook

His evening had been uneventful, delightfully so. His quarters were warm, the fire in the hearth steadily burning away and illuminating the room. Hung across the furniture and floor were various pelts of animals, some he recognised and others looked so exotic he almost thought they were fake. But the soft touch of the fibres on his bare torso proved otherwise, as Leon stretched himself out before the fireplace, languid and carefree. It was almost like home, perhaps a little more luxurious than what he was used to, but it was comforting nonetheless.

No petrifying thoughts of his imminent death or maiming haunted his mind as Leon let the warmth lick over his body and convince him that the best thing to do before the ball was not to plan and scheme, but to nap.

When he blinked his eyes open again, the orange light of the fire seemed to cast long shadows where its reach was blocked. The light from outside had ceased, the specks of stars spread across the dark expanse outside the balcony window. Leon sat up and glanced around the space in mild bewilderment before realising that he was most definitely late to the ball.

Clawed hands pushed open the double doors and the man was hit with the loud cacophony of the ball, the music was fast and people spun around in a tizzy. Clearly, he had missed the milder beginnings of this event and everyone here had sunk enough alcohol to stun a whale.

Leon was clad in his traditional formal wear, a pair of hide pants, ruffed with mottled brown fur at the waistband, tipped with a pair of dark leather boots. Across his chest were two broad straps that fastened the curly animal pelt over the back of his shoulders. Painted in hurried and haphazard red and white mineral paste was a variety of symbols and patterns that adorned his bare chest and arms, extending up his neck. Nothing marred his face other than the tattooed red beneath his eyes.

The scent of food drew him to the long tables immediately, ignoring any noblemen that tried to speak to him, he began to pick through the options. Selecting only what would be useful, no frills or tiny portions, meats and vegetables with the occasional fruit. Leon couldn’t believe the amount that was left, he was hours late and there was still so much! His kingdom would never allow for such waste, they cooked plenty and they ate even more. After giving thanks to mother nature for their meal, of course, he wasn’t a heathen.

The food only kept him busy for a short while, devouring what he had collected rather quickly. Now he stood at the edge of the dance floor and watched the groups, it was very fancy. The long dresses that billowed behind the woman and the straight jacket suits of the men, even the dances they performed were demure and mindful despite the clear intoxication. Leon never truly understood the need for such frivolous displays of eloquence, it didn’t mean anything when it came down to reality. Why now allow for a smidge of debauchery and freedom? In that moment he was struck with a small prickle of home sickness, longing for the familiar smells and rituals. This place smelt of sickly sweet perfumes and rich deceit.

When a group of women ushered past him, giggling as they went, it forced a wave of the most overwhelming flowery perfume he had ever smelt and his nose crinkled up instantly. His top lip lifted in a half grimace, half snarl as he made a quick escape from the area. The smell stuck to the back of his throat and he was attempting to unstick it as he pushed himself to the edge of the hall. He was frantically licking the top of his mouth and swallowing to try and free himself of the taste and smell when he looked over and saw Dion ambling his way through the doors to a balcony. His tail stilled behind him.

He was supposed to watch him. He remembered.

Leon’s rather silly display of licking stopped and he moved to the doors to follow Dion out into the crisp night. A welcome relief from the twirling scent nightmare that was inside.

Leon kept himself quiet, the blessing of his animalistic traits letting him pad towards the edge in almost silence. This heir looked a mess, his hair was disheveled, he was standing a little crooked. His shirt ruffled and pulled out of place. For a second, Leon might have thought the other prince had gotten lucky, if it wasn’t for the fast he was staring in a complete daze out into the night. He settled beside him, about to question Dion about his appearance when the man turned abruptly and half fell into him.

Leon’s tail flicked out behind him and his arms instinctively shot out from his sides to catch the crumpled form and attempt to right him back onto his feet, a harder task than it sounded. He furrowed his brows slightly at the quietness of the words, unusual. Dion had shown himself to be high strung and very forthright when he had something to say, if his small amount of interactions with him were any insight into his normal behaviours. His tail mulled over the thoughts by idly ticking from side to side as he watched Dion straighten himself as best as he could.

“What do I have to be stressed about?” He queried, completely sincere in his tone, almost confused as to why Dion thought he was. The trails were difficult, but there was no way he was going to struggle. The idea of him struggling almost made him snuffle out a laugh. Then Dion stepped back.

“That’s dramatic.” Leon snickered, following Dion’s gaze as it returned to the moon. It looked different here, colder. “You really think that these other heirs can kill you?” He pushed, letting his eyes slide back over towards the other man. “You think that Alderburn kid can get a scratch in?” Leon joked, leaning to jostle his upper arm against Dion’s shoulder.

Then Leon tensed up and curled his torso over so that his head was level with Dion’s shorter stature. His lips pulling into a sharp smile, the needle point of his four canines catching the moonlight.

“Or do you think I've got it out for you too?” He spoke slowly, eyes bright with energy in the shadows, his tail had stopped moving behind him. He hung there for a moment, then quickly reared back with a wide grin and shook his head, tail resuming its idle swaying.