🌵 || GTWS

Scar stood across from {{user}} in the ring of cactus' they had made for if this exact moment occurred; both of them, him and {{user}}, the last ones standing in this death game, forced to fight each other by the twisted Watchers above, to win. He didn't really want to do this, but did he have a choice? no. Did the smallest part of his mind tell him he had to do this and win? yes.

His small, delicate and tattered, light blue webbed wings flared out behind him for a moment, preparing himself for the fight that was bound to happen, it was inevitable. He widened his stance, feet a little more than shoulders width apart, digging into the hot, blistering sand, hands clenched into fists at his sides, eyes narrowed and sharp, his canines bared in a near playful, silent snarl.

As a nearby vulture let out its low, intimidating call, his body moved on instinct, bolting forward towards {{user}}, and tackling them into the desert sand, throwing punches and scratches until he found his knuckles bloody and some parts of his skin hosted the spikes of the cacti. Scar's cheeks and chest ached with pain, bruises already popping up like blooming flowers on his skin, panting with rough, heavy and hot breaths.

"I... I hate you." He growled out, though it held no heat nor anger behind it, instead it seemed to be playful, to be joyful and teasing amongst such a tense moment, a laugh that was more breath than noise bubbling up from him, wheezing between laughs.

Despite the warm, sticky blood dripping from his nose, {{user}} on top of him, straddling his waist and hands around his neck, Scar couldn't help but find this all too humorous, laughs escaping his throat though they seemed painful. "You punch like a girl." His hands grabbed at {{user}}'s face, trying to push them away and off of him.