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[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

With swift hands, Thorsiffe aided Elena in patting away the snow from her clothes. They would not be much of a teacher if they did not help their friend pick herself back up again after a mistake. Though perhaps it came across more akin to a concerned parent wiping away the cold snow to prevent Elena from getting cold. Not that they believed the deity could get cold if she didn't want to, but still.

"Hmm..." Thorsiffe hummed, squinting and pursing their lips as Elena brought forth her counterarguments.

They relented when Elena suggested a break. "Very well, I, ah, stand corrected," they smiled.

"And we can take a break, yes," they nodded. "I would gladly spend another night and day with you atop this mountain, but it is high time for the second part of winter sports."

Their smile turned into a grin, "warm drinks and hearty meals."

That was fair, Elena supposed. Except she'd cap it at 'standing in her own way' rather than actual sabotage but potayto potahto. Or something.

"'M fine," came her muffled reply from the pile of white before Elena turned her head sideways and pushed up onto her hands, blowing a raspberry and spitting snow. With the powder cushioning her fall it hadn't even hurt. If anything, it had felt like tumbling into a pile of pillows. Cold, wet pillows but who was she to complain?

Letting Thorsiffe help her back to her feet once more, Elena took care to brush off the remaining traces of her fall before they could melt and seep in her slightly inappropriate attire. "I'm afraid those powers don't include a better sense of balance," she lamented, squinting up at the tall redhead, "flying would be cheating and I'm not sure if you've noticed yet but," her gaze briefly dropped to the thin layer of cloth covering Thorsiffe's forearm and she couldn't help but wonder if there was a bruise forming underneath, "I'm not the best at controlling my strength when I panic." No shit, she'd probably snap the skis clean in two if she were to use all her strength.

"But we can take a break if you want?" Elena tagged on, knowing it had to be frustrating to watch her blunder their instructions over and over again. Besides, they had almost reached the bottom of the slope, so now was as good a time as any.

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

"Daphne, you never told me you were, ah, into such things, hm?" Thorsiffe teased with a giggle, before grinning and winking. The witch might not have meant anything by it, but this joke of an innuendo was too easy for Thorsiffe to pass up on. Besides, it would be funny to see Daphne blushing.

Glad that the tension was mostly out of the way, Daphne was giddy about the prospect of this evening. Truly there was no one who knew Punch Club better than a regular. Daph couldn't have a better guide. And being there to help patch her friend up if the crowd became too rowdy certainly eased her worries a bit.

"Don't joke. I get easily lost in a crowd. You might need to put a leash on me."

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

Daphne's words and wry smile were met with a laugh and another smile of their own. A compromise had been met, even one that Thorsiffe could not find themself minding. They would fight more confidently (if such a thing was even possible), knowing their friend's protection watched over them.

"Of course," they reassured Daphne upon her request. They giggled, "I will even hold your hand if you so wish, yes?"

She knew better. When they had decided to order food for lunch, the two almost missed their meal when you decide turned into a battle of wills. That was such a minor thing, yet fighting was in Thorsiffe's blood. As much as the witch wanted to shelter her friend, it would be crueler to even suggest giving it up.

"I know better than to underestimate that." Her demeanor cracked with a wry smile. It was not the best solution, but it was better than nothing. She would feel at ease knowing that all precautions were taken to keep Thors from turning up sporting more than just a few bruises. "It will. Thank you. I'll get you the charm before the next full moon."

Biting her lip, Daphne thought it over. The movies were safe. The worst thing that might happen is a bad film or stale popcorn. She hadn't come this far to back down now. "You promise not to leave me alone in the Punch Cage?"

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

Thorsiffe's thunderous laughter had long since dwindled into persistent, mischievous giggling. They spun flamboyantly, sticking out their arms, before letting themself fall onto the bench besides brave Gwendolyn. They let out a breath as they spun again, this time on their butt, and let themself lean, or rather fall, backwards, their head resting in Gwen's lap.

"Me too," they smiled contently, staring off into the sky. Thorsiffe might have dragged Gwen out of hiding to lift her spirits from the depths they had fallen to, but they had been quick to realize that they had needed this day as well. Much had been plaguing their mind in recent times; the suffocating Golden Rule, the human hunters, their confession of love towards Lillian and her subsequent disappearance. Fury could not heal a wound, but it could drive forth the warrior nonetheless. Likewise, the joy they felt today would not resolve their issues, but at the very least it had freed their mind and unburdened their heart.

Their gaze turned towards Gwen. "Thank you for today. I am glad it succeeded its purpose."

Who: Gwen x Thorsiffe ( @thorsiffe-dragonheart ) Where: Amusement Park two cities over. When: 7PM

"Oh my god," Gwen gushed in a hushed tone as she leaned into Thor, unable to contain the fit of giggles that escaped her lips. They'd decided to take a break from all the rollercoasters and games to refuel, finding themselves at one of the bars for drinks and dinner. While the two friends had been enjoying themselves, a group of guys had decided to at them up. The mischievous alphas decided to mess with the dude-bros by engaging in a friendly wager. After every roller coaster ride, they'd do a round of shots. They'd been on their fifth round, coming off of the last roller coaster when two of the guys began puking their guts up in a nearby trash can.

Gwen threw her head back in laughter as they'd raised their white flags, the duo walking away arm-in-arm to see what other mischief they could cause. Gwen eventually found herself collapsing on a far-off park bench with a huff, her head spinning with booze and the after-effects of G-force. "Oh man, this is probably the most fun I've had in months," she added as she took a sip of water, watching the lights from all the rides and booths dance off the crowds that passed them. "How about you?"

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

It was good to see Elena's smile widen and soften, for it was a smile of honey and sunrises yet to come. Thorsiffe giggled at Elena's explanation, or perhaps her lack thereof. It carried no malice or mockery, mere plain amusement. Like leaves gently rustling as the wind makes its way through them.

Their smile remained as they nodded, "some other time then, yes."

Thorsiffe's enthusiasm may have been a drop in the ocean but it was a balm to her open wounds all the same. A trickle of silver lining to cling to. Allowing her smile to widen into something softer, Elena stood with a nod. "Awesome. —It's, uh," she scrunched her nose up, heat spilling into her cheeks as if Thorsiffe's blush was contagious, "a way to say 'some other time'? I'm not really sure how it came about though." She had parroted phrases for so long some of them probably didn't make half as much sense as she thought they did. This one, however, she vouched to look up later, if nothing else it would distract her from the memories tumbling in her stomach like Babylon.

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

Thorsiffe listened to Elena with earnest interest, cocking their head as they did. Their curiosity was great, but they knew that some wounds were best left unopened. If such was the case now they could not know, but at the very least they could respect Elena's wish not to speak any more on the matter.

They sprang upright as Elena smiled, matching her small one with a wide and bright one of their own. "This I could agree to, yes," they nodded enthusiastically, before their cheeks flushed dark red.

"Though, ah, what is a 'rain check'..?"

"No, it's—," she shook her head, as much at herself as to signal that no fault lay with Thorsiffe, "you have nothing to apologize for. It's not your job to make me understand." Not if that job was making sense of two and a half decades worth of hurt and neglect. "I'm..," Elena hesitated, unwilling to dive into why she was having such difficulties with this in the first place, "not sure I can understand. Which has little to do with how you'd need to dumb your stories down a good thirty percent for me to follow them properly. —Maybe I don't even want to have it make sense."

She didn't normally struggle quite this much to get out of her head but after her visit to the Punch Cage everything felt fresh and raw all over again. "Rain check? And next time the drinks are on me?" Though it was small, the smile that quirked her lips was genuine.

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

"Of course!" Thorsiffe beamed, before giggling. "Though I know not what suggestions I could give one with an exhibition dedicated to their works."

Though appreciative of all mediums through which stories were told and emotions invoked, Thorsiffe had little experience with the visual. They had their tattoos, yes, sticking out from the collar of their shirt, their sleeves, and under their skirt, but skin was such a vastly different canvas than, well, an actual canvas.

"Ask me again once you have branched out into oration or song, yes?" Thorsiffe teased, before their eyes started eagerly darting around the room.

Their reaction to realizing the group had quickly dispersed drew a laugh to his lips, one he made sure to control quickly, though their smile was still wide and beaming. They waited, allowing them a few moments to figure out their words. "Nevertheless, I appreciate all of them who did come, and I appreciate having friendly faces among the crowd."

The pair of them were good examples of why art meant different things to different people. Thorsiffe had a sweet face and, despite dressing in outfits adorned with a large amount of black and metal, many would have thought them the sweet one of the pair. Judas liked that about them, that they were constantly more than meets the eye. "Please, feel free to give me your honest opinions on my works, and any suggestions you might have."

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

Much like Daphne, Thorsiffe wanted to argue. They did not need further protection, nor any potions of healing. The Punch Cage was, in its own way, safe enough for the likes of Thorsiffe, despite the stormlike intensity of their brawls. But they knew that Daphne had wanted to argue with them further too, and they knew that, much like themself, their sweet friend would not relent.

"Ah, you underestimate my knack for arguing," Thorsiffe teased with a grin before leaning in to kiss Daphne's forehead. "But very well. I will do as you say, if it puts your heart at ease."

They tilted their head, a teasing smile upon their lips. "Now, is this one still eager to witness the Punch Cage, or should we visit the cinema instead, hm?"

Daphne wanted to argue. She wanted to lecture Thorsiffe on the danger that they put themselves into even if they healed quickly. She wanted to put them in one of those giant bubble balls, but she knew that she couldn't. This was Thorsiffe. Her friend was a fighter; it was simply who she was.

The witch sighed, shaking her head, but she didn't pull her hands away. "I suppose that is something." She remained torn about going to to see the fights. Part of her hoped that her imagination wouldn't get carried away picturing Thorsiffe as the fighter. Was it better to imagine the worst or possibly see the truth.

"But I want you to carry a protection charm and some healing potions from now on. It isn't up for discussion."

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

"Only the reality in which you are your own worst enemy, my friend," Thorsiffe teased, their tone reassuring and their smile warm, almost motherly.

Thorsiffe let out a startled sound and swiftly hurried the short way down the mountainside. "Are you alright, pretty?"

A silly question. Elena could have skied into a tree and, given the will to, it would barely slow her down.

Again, Thorsiffe made a sharp turn and stopped just below Elena. This time around, they kicked off their skis with practiced motions and quickly stepped towards the snowbank Elena had landed in.

Once more, they offered their hand to the Valkyrie. "There is no shame in using your powers to aid you, yes?"

"Yeah, I'm not so sure we're living in the same reality," Elena laughed, wobbling slightly as Thorsiffe helped her back to her feet. At this pace at least one of them was going to be old and gray by the time they reached the bottom of the mountain. Reaching behind herself to wipe the snow from her pants - perhaps her body didn't bruise quite so easily but her ego would, if she had to walk around town looking like she'd had a different kind of accident - Elena forced out a breath.

"No leaning back, got it." Giving a nod to signal that she was ready to try again, she released her already slightly less forceful grip on the wolf, then angled her skis downhill until she began to slide again. —And it was fine. For one stroke.. two.. three, as Elena continued to pick up speed, the small bumps in the slope jostling her stance without throwing her off balance entirely. Until it was the speed itself, that became the problem, making it increasingly difficult to point the tips of the skis towards each other.

Her knees threatening to buckle and twist with each attempt, the snowbanks to either side of the slope seemed like her only option. She figured it was better than a tree at least, steering straight for the left side until she found herself toppling face-first into the white powder with a quiet 'oomph'.

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

Thorsiffe frowned, poking through the forced nature of Elena's smile easily enough after having elicited a proper one before. This was not the first time something of the like had happened, and it would not be the last. They often found themself spinning grand tales that others could not link to rhyme or reason, and there were few people who could follow their thoughts when Thorsiffe let their tongue freely spin its tale.

"No, I am sorry," they apologized in turn, reaching out and curling a gentle hand around Elena's. They smiled sheepishly, "if you do not understand, the fault is with me. Perhaps I can try again another time, yes?"

A giggle, "when my skull has not been rattled by the might of one of your kind."

Their smile warmed and turned more confident. "I will not keep you longer if you wish to leave, but we could speak of different matters if you remain. And, ah..." They sought for the words before snapping their fingers, "drinks on me, yes?"

Each time Elena thought she was closer to making sense of Thorsiffe's words, the wolf rocked the foundation of what she had thought she had discovered yet again. They supposed they used the fights as an outlet? So that was not what they had just told her then?

Their conversation quickly becoming a source of frustration to her, she swallowed down more of the auburn liquid, inwardly begging it to do something. Anything to keep her from feeling like a stupid nine year old with a subpar understanding of the English language while her classmates spoke and read laps around her.

Better drown everyone else right? The words sat right there on the tip of Elena's tongue, sarcasm sharp like razor blades, but just as the alcohol refused to loosen the knots in her stomach, it refused to loosen her tongue. It seemed like they had both been taught that violence was the way, and yet they had grown up as part of entirely different cultures. So the crux of the matter remained—Elena couldn't be sure that Thorsiffe was actually saying what she thought they were saying and eventually, Elio would drop her like a hot potato if all she did was start fights wherever she went.

Setting her half-empty glass down to reveal a forced smile, another sigh broke from her chest. "Sorry, I'm— My head's just not in the right place tonight. Thank you for the beer," her gaze slid away to lock onto the quarter-inch of foam on top and stayed there, "and for trying to explain. But I think I might just call it a day and head home."

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

"Sweet, clever Daphne," Thorsiffe started, taking another step forward to gently take Daphne's hands in theirs. "Because any wounds I suffer are healed again by the time I lie down in bed. My arm could be broken, set, and healed again within the hour. I was born for battle, and this is a mere game."

They smiled apologetically at Daphne. "I apologize for worrying you. But there is nothing to worry about. It is fun for the likes of me."

They giggled, tilting their head again. "And yes, there is a referee."

Deep breath in and out. Again. Through the nose, out the mouth. Una, duo, tres or was it tria? This was not helping at all. "But you fight there?" Her voice was higher than normal, throat tight. She knew that her friend could be rowdy at points, but she didn't imagine Thors to be a fighter in one of those places. "Is there a referee at the very least?"

All those scattered bruises made far more sense. The way that Thorsiffe managed to go through healing balms not from some werewolf related issues or misplacing a jar. Really she should have known better. She'd intentionally missed all the signs.

"Fighting for a cause is completely different than for entertainment." She longed to take a step forward and use her magic to heal every last cut that might be hiding just out of notice. She didn't want her friend to ever feel an iota of pain, yet they willingly submitted themselves to it. "True battles are fought for something. This is violence for violence's sake. How can you be so nonchalant about it?"

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

In turn, it had taken considerable effort for Thorsiffe to merely stick to their... Colorful retelling of the tale and their interpretation of parts of it. It was hard not to let their tongue run free and let the tale branch off into others that relate to it, or their interpretations of much more than what they wished to get across.

"I suppose!" Thorsiffe answered with a bright smile and a twinkle in their eyes, as if they hadn't considered it like that themself yet. "Though I always let my fury run free, so that it might never build up into a wave that crashes down upon and drowns me."

They giggled. "It is also good practice, and great fun, yes?"

It took some considerable effort to follow Thorsiffe's narration, more than Elena was willing to admit out loud. Whether the world did or didn't have a strange fascination with their faith, she had not heard those tales before. It might've helped if she had, considering how Thorsiffe's way of speaking boggled her mind in more ways than one.

Exhaling a heavy breath, her head bobbed in a slow nod even though Elena wasn't sure she understood. It sounded like a whole lot of excuses strung together. A whole lot of bullshit—she'd be tempted to say if she weren't trying to withhold judgement. No one was destined for violence and indulging in it didn't foster anything other than even more violence. It sounded like an alcoholic claiming that beer and wine were basically water and therefor didn't count.

Speaking of which.. Swiping her tongue over her bottom lip, she brought her glass to the very same, swallowing down large gulps of lukewarm beer until her stomach protested in hopes of... what exactly, Elena wasn't sure. A placebo effect perhaps. "So that's why you're doing it?," she finally questioned, running the back of her hand over her mouth to wipe away the wetness that had gathered there. "As an outlet?"

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

"Fenrir. I am sure you have heard this name, no? For this world seems so oddly fascinated by our faith," they giggled, starting their odd tale in their thick, sing-songy accent.

"The Greatwolf, son of Loki the trickster, and, of all dreaded destinies, fated to kill Odin, the All-Father. Often have folk heard the tale of his binding. How the Fenris-wolf was tricked into a game to show his great strength, able to break any binding. How in the end, they were finally able to bind him with magic chains, made from things now lost to the world. The breath of fish, or the sound of a cat's footsteps."

They giggled again, taking a more modest sip of beer this time. "Silly, no?

"Yet I believe there is wisdom to be found there. More yet when one knows how the gods could trick Odin's Doom to begin with. See, he was one of them. Part of their household. A close friend to Týr, Heromaker. The two would play as one would with any hound, and yapping on his back the Famous Wolf seemed friend and pet like any other. Yet when he arose and towered over even men... His great shadow over Odin loomed.

"That trust did they use and abuse, and such he was bound, and such Týr, the one who Fenrir trusted most, his hand did lose. Such did the Greatwolf give in to a fury and hatred so great, it courses through my kin's veins to this very day. Until one day, when he will break free and have his rightful vengeance.

"But never have I believed it had to be this way. Destined he might have been, and though fate will tug all towards its end, only dead fish follow the stream. Each person has fury within them, some more so than others. Many attempt to bind it, told such a primal part of themselves is unsightly. Yet whatever you bind it with will be lost onto the world, and never will fury be forever bound.

"Some might be lost to it forever, devoured by that great hungering wolf. Others can let themself run free. Perhaps they trouble no one, or perhaps no one is powerful enough to stop them. Yet more evade their worst of fates by finding, ah... Outlets, yes? Ways to unleash and let breathe that which they must bind lest impossible chains attempt to forever bind them.

"For some, that which wishes to break free is fury, and this, ah, Punch Cage is where they can let it, yes?"

Done with their tale, Thorsiffe took another large sip of beer, almost finishing the drink. With bright eyes, they gave Elena an expectant look over the rim of their glass.

Disconcerting as it was, there was also relief to be found in the other's humor. If Thorsiffe could laugh about becoming a thoughtless, emotionless shell of themselves, Elena supposed that at least meant they were presently fine. Even if it was solely the expression itself which they found funny.

She listened as Thorsiffe explained, tried to let the words sink in and make sense. But they just didn't. Her beer forgotten, left to warm below the heat of her palms, she let her wide-eyed gaze linger on the wolf, a hint of vulnerability peeking through as Elena shook her head. "I don't understand."

She hated how lost it made her feel. How her mind refused to move on from what she had witnessed at the Punch Cage. How it rattled parts of her that weren't supposed to matter anymore. "Please."

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

"Of course not, silly!" Thorsiffe giggled, lowering their hand and stepping closer to sweet Daphne. "One could not offer to take a friend to see a movie if one was planning on fighting too, no?"

They tilted their head, wild red hair and small braids swaying with the motion. They had not expected such a reaction from Daphne, yet perhaps that had been silly of them. The witch was to violence what a calm breeze was to a storm.

The tilt of their head and movement of hair revealed the compass-like symbol tattooed on their neck, but also a large scar upon their throat now that Daphne was looking for blemishes. Upon closer inspection, Thorsiffe was absolutely littered with them. Most were faint due to their wolf's blood, and even the most prominent of them did not stand out much due to Thorsiffe being covered in even more ink than scars.

"I am a warrior, Daphne, and have oft faced death. These bouts are mere echos of true battle, yes?"

"Often?" She tilted her head to the side, furrowing her brows as she attempted to figure out what it was that Thorsiffe wasn't saying. Often did what at the fighting club. The wolf was an alpha. Perhaps their penchant for taking care of the pack meant that they were a frequent guest at the club. That made the most sense until the truth came out.

She inhaled sharply, eyes widening. Automatically Daphne started looking for bruises that she'd attributed to little accidents or mistakes. Sure Thorsiffe healed faster than most, but that didn't mean that they were not getting hurt. "You what?" It made sense to help get out any aggression, but Daphne certainly didn't like it. She much preferred knowing Thorsiffe was safe in the hallowed halls of educational buildings than getting turned into jello.

"No, coming on. I cannot believe this. Were you planning on fighting tonight?" No amount of deep breathing exercises could calm her racing heart. It was one thing to witness the fight, but now she was far too worried for her friend's well-being.

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

They nodded at both questions. Only then did it dawn upon Thorsiffe that they had never told Daphne about them fighting in the Punch Cage. "Ah! I am often an, ah," they frowned and snapped their fingers, looking for the right word.

"A contestant there, yes?" Their voice and smile were so casual, Thorsiffe might have just told Daphne that they had a second job working at the library. But fighting, war and bloodshed, and unleashing their fury came as naturally to Thorsiffe as breathing or howling at the moon. Fighting in the Punch Cage was a mere echo of true battle, so to the Dragonheart it was little more than something fun on the side.

"Now come!" Thorsiffe giggled, gesturing with the hand they had offered. "Time waits for no man, and I would wish to grab an, ah, snack, yes? Before we arrive there and the first fight starts."

Those who benefitted from the pain of others confused Daphne. Surely they could not enjoy seeing others get hurt no matter how much it put in their pockets. There had to be some appeal to watching. She understood those who got in the ring even if she feared for their safety. "Do you spend a lot of time there then?" She arched her brow. Daphne usually didn't pry into people's private lives when it didn't concern her, yet she worried just who Thorsiffe might be getting involved with.

"Really?" Her eyes light up at the prospect of being slowly eased into the world of fighting. She could see just what went into it. She could see that there were safety measures of sorts in place. It would do wonders to put her mind at ease.

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

Thorsiffe giggled at Judas' joke, cheeks flushing slightly, before they looked around some. "We are-"

They blinked, having apparently already lost the rest of their pack. The lot of them often flowed like the river, and Thorsiffe could not tell whether it was them or the others who had wandered off. Perhaps it was both, and whatever plans they had had were long forgotten.

Their cheeks reddened further and they laughed. "I brought most of my warband! Even if at this moment they do not meet our eyes. Though some of mine did not come - fools enough to believe stories that do not grace their ears are not worth witnessing."

They tsked, "they lack the, ah..." They frowned, snapping their fingers as they willed their mind to conjure the translation for the concept they were thinking of, only to realize there was no one word. "The thricefold aspects of poetry, mind, and, ah, inspiration, yes?"

Seeing them made him grin wide. Their boundless energy was familiar, inspiring their own energy to recharge. They looked almost exactly how they expected them to dress, making them wish they could have dressed a little more casually themselves. "Thanks. I thought I ought to dress up a bit, pretend like I'm a professional artist," they joked lightheartedly. "Is it just you, or did you bring the whole gang?"

[thorsiffe-dragonheart]

"I suppose," they giggled. "Yet they are not my people, and as such I would not know them by their noses nor their howls." Thorsiffe had quickly found most 'posh' people either detested them and their eccentricities or adored them. However, it was the sort of adoration one had for a treasured and valuable item, rather than a good friend, or even a person. Thorsiffe had oft wondered whether such was due to themself or perhaps inherent to those people.

"And I could get us backstage, if such is your wish!" They giggled once more, lips curling up into a smile as they hopped off the desk and offered Daphne their hand.

Daphne chuckled, knowing that beneath the jokes Thorsiffe words were earnest. No harm would come to either of them so long as her friend could prevent it. Besides, it was likely that many of the fights would be saved for the spectacle of the sport rather brawls amongst the patrons. It would certainly be something new.

"I wonder if we might be able to go behind the scenes." Her mind already puzzling out the inner workings of something that she had never seen. Surely there must at least be the very basic rules governing the experience. Were their healers in case of real injuries? Were they friends once the match was over? There had to be an entire world of lore that she needed to catch up on.

"Is that your way of telling me the posh people who pretend to be better than their basic instincts frequent the place too?" She hadn't even thought of what the audience were like. In her mind, she assumed the crowd to be a rowdy yet faceless bunch.