Chapter Text
He loved the thrill of the chase. The sound of his stilts piercing the earth, the panicked panting of his victim, the feeling of the wind surging around him… nothing compared. Ithaqua adjusted his grip on his axe, preparing to deal the final blow. He leapt forward, swung his axe, and… missed? The blade whirred softly through the air as Ithaqua stumbled forward, catching a glimpse of a small, floating ball where the survivor once was. The ball disappeared shortly after, and he looked up to see the culprit releasing Ithaqua’s victim from the ball, just before violently swatting them across the back with a stick of some sort. He watched his fellow hunter kneel down and swiftly tie the balloons around his stolen victim before standing back up with a brief smirk in Ithaqua’s direction. So, that’s how it was going to be? Two could play at that game. He huffed at the sight of the self proclaimed “cueist” shoving the survivor into the rocket chair with that lion tail of his swishing about, turning away to begin enacting his revenge.
Marcus was already getting frustrated. This was meant to be a quick chase while he waited for the countdown on the rocket chair to end. Instead, he still hadn’t caught his prey, and the survivor from the rocket chair had already been rescued. None of this was going according to plan. At last, the survivor slipped up, stepping right into the trajectory of the cue ball he’d launched earlier. Marcus released his victim, pulled back his billiard cue, and pierced the air in front of him as the survivor was rapidly pulled back by a sharp gust of wind. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he watched that maniac on stilts bring his axe down on the prey he’d worked so hard to catch. He had some nerve, impeding on his kill like that. His tail swished back and forth with agitation as the other man threw the survivor into the rocket chair and dashed off to hunt another. Marcus swiftly and adeptly set a trajectory to follow the chase, and caught up in no time. When the moment was right, he struck, launching himself off the path and colliding with the other hunter.
Ithaqua had finally gotten back into his comfort zone, when a ball of fur came careening out of nowhere and nearly knocked him off his stilts. His back slammed against a tree as he took the unexpected force to the chest, dropping his axe and grunting in pain. He found himself gripping the shoulders of a rather angry wannabe lion, whose skin Ithaqua was currently pressing his claw-like nails into. “You have some nerve, stealing my kill like that,” Marcus snarled, prying his hands off his shoulders. “I was just returning the favor,” Ithaqua retorted, leaning closer and lowering his voice, “it’s hardly my fault if you’re not the mighty hunter you make yourself out to be.” Marcus was already frustrated and full of adrenaline as is, so all it took was that one comment to push him over the edge. He grabbed the front of Ithaqua’s shirt and tackled him to the ground with a hiss, engaging in an impromptu wrestling match. The two of them scrambled around on the grass, scratching at each other, Marcus biting Ithaqua, who then yanked on Marcus’ tail, resulting in more disgruntled feline noises.
After plenty of rolling and squabbling, Ithaqua found himself under the other hunter again, glaring up at him after having lost his mask at some point in the fight. The brief lull in the flurry of violence was just long enough for the two of them to hear the faint whistling of the wind from the open dungeon door. Marcus froze in the middle of his attack, pulling back with a groan. “Great, every single one of them escaped,” he grumbled, giving Ithaqua a withering glare. However, the glare escaped Ithaqua entirely as he shoved Marcus over, getting up and gathering his scattered belongings. “Right, and whose fault is that?” Marcus chose not to dignify that with a response, grabbing his billiard cue and picking himself up off the ground. “I know you’re new to this, but you’re supposed to hunt the survivors, not the other hunters,” he continued, brushing loose dirt off his mask, “do the terms not speak for themselves?” Ithaqua could hear faint growling as he looked down at Marcus, watching his tail flick with barely stifled rage. It was a rather entertaining sight, despite the signs suggesting another imminent attack.
Fortunately for Ithaqua, they were transported back to the manor before Marcus could pounce on him again.
As soon as they returned to the manor, Marcus decided he would avoid his new rival to the best of his abilities. This decision was extremely short lived, as he encountered Ithaqua at the infirmary almost immediately. Neither of them spoke a word to each other, but the dirty looks they exchanged while they waited said enough. Eventually, their staring contest was interrupted by Emily, who looked rather unsurprised to see the two of them here. In fact, she expected it after seeing the two of them brawling in that last match. Not that either of them had noticed her, or any of the survivors for that matter. “Well, let’s see your injuries,” she said with a resigned sigh, hoping they wouldn’t somehow start fighting again. Marcus tugged his collar aside to reveal bruises around his throat, while Ithaqua sported scratch marks on his arms and jaw. Emily reviewed the wounds, pointedly avoiding eye contact the entire time. Marcus found that odd, but chose not to question it, taking the cold compress offered for his bruised neck and leaving as soon as possible.
Despite the snag in Marcus’ plan, he was determined to stick to it, sitting as far on the opposite side of the dining hall as he could. He attempted to focus on the meal in front of him and the bustling conversation, but he couldn’t help but steal a curious glance across the room. Ithaqua appeared to be engaged in a rather heated argument with Galatea, his face flushed with anger. He stirred up trouble with everyone in the manor, didn’t he? Marcus watched the scene unfold with a bored expression, tuning out the conversation around him. Ithaqua’s face hadn’t been that red when they were fighting earlier, why was this different? He was unable to come to a conclusion before things began escalating. As soon as Marcus started paying attention again, there was a loud clatter as Ithaqua fumbled to stop Galatea from shouting across the table at someone who made the mistake of asking what they were talking about. His efforts failed, tumbling out of his chair as she got away with announcing “Ithaqua made out with the new hunter in duos!” The room fell silent seconds later, and the blood rushed to Marcus’ face even faster.
Ithaqua pulled himself up from where he’d fallen on the floor just enough to see the ensuing chaos. Marcus had immediately jumped out of his seat to deny the accusation, attempting to explain what had really happened over the pandemonium. Being teased about what Galatea heard about the match from Helena was embarrassing enough, but this was just mortifying. He decided to take the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, leaving Marcus to fend for himself against the allegations that the bruises on his neck were hickeys. Ithaqua escaped the dining hall, making it all of five steps before he was attacked from behind. He whipped around and threw the attacker against the wall on instinct, pinning them there with his hand gripping their chin. He unexpectedly found himself face to face with Marcus, who was already growling. “Shouldn’t you be off salvaging your dignity? Get lost, fleabag,” Ithaqua hissed, tightening his grip on his chin. “What, so you make up slanderous lies about me and think you can just run off? As if I’d let you get away with that,” Marcus retorted as he tried to pry the hand from his chin.
“I did no such thing,” Ithaqua leaned in closer, lowering his voice, “you’re the one who keeps throwing yourself at me, it’s no surprise people think you’re interested.” Marcus stiffened at the close proximity, and started to hiss before they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat down the hall. Both of them jerked their heads to the side to see Joseph standing there, glass of wine in hand. Ithaqua, suddenly very aware of their current position, immediately unhands Marcus and plasters himself against the opposite wall. “It’s not what it looks like. He attacked me first, I was just–” Joseph lifted his hand, interrupting him. “No need to defend yourselves,” he started, and relief washed over the two of them at the reassurance. “No one’s going to judge you for your love life.” Ithaqua covered his face with a groan, and the fur on Marcus’ tail stood up as he started stammering. Joseph, unbothered by the emotional whiplash he just caused, walks past them and into the dining hall.
This time, Marcus quickly scans the surrounding area to make sure they’re alone before lurching forward, yanking Ithaqua’s hand away from his face, and tugging him down to eye level. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your distance. Understood?” Ithaqua pressed his hand against Marcus’ chest and shoved him back, his tail swishing about as he awkwardly regained his balance. “I can keep my distance just fine, as long as you keep your paws off me,” he snapped, turning and finishing his interrupted escape. Marcus quietly seethed as he watched that dreaded man leave, resisting the urge to hunt him down again. He couldn’t explain it, but he found it far more enticing than hunting survivors. He glanced down at his chest, his hand having unconsciously found its way to where Ithaqua’s had been when he pushed him. Marcus scoffed and started down the hall to his room, readjusting the bow that adorned his neck. Who does that animal think he is, behaving so carelessly? It was unbelievable what people were accusing them of, they had nothing in common.