[center][h2][color=a36209]Gwillim Gunnvaldr[/color][/h2][sub]Husband of [color=E3a777]Scyrvensrel Talyrrth-Gunnvaldr[/color] [@Amethyst] and [?] of [TBA] [@"?"]
Interacting with: [color=E3a777]Scyrven[/color] [@Amethyst][/sub][/center]
Hearing his mate’s voice, Gwillim turned and met his wife’s gaze. A smirk creeping across his face as he saunters her way, throwing his hands wide as he accepted the challenge.

“[color=a36209]But of course my love, ‘twill be a pleasure as always![/color]”

His saunter turned suddenly into a sprint, though Scyrven seemed to be about to do him as he had the boys. But the pair locked horns, and tumbled convincingly enough, they both sprang to their feet and tossed fists and booted feet at each other, while blocking and dodging the other’s blows. Minutes passed, and occasionally the pair would tumble and roll across the ground before rising to continue the fight upright. The cousins watched in awe, and Alfhildr too watched carefully, though she seemed less awestruck by the performance and more eager to memorize every little detail. Blades sprang from sheathes suddenly, though no blade found flesh, each one being knocked out of the wielder’s grasp and into the air… a moment later half a dozen blades of various sizes were being juggled between the two combatants even as they seemed to be throwing a furious volley of punches and kicks at each other. 

The adults smirked at the show, most confident they could do as well, or close enough, if given a competent partner. The children watched amazed as both husband and wife tracked the movement of every blade, each fist, and foot, so precisely despite the speed at which they traveled. And what’s more it seemed to cost them no extra effort, as both were smiling wildly now, eyes locked as they danced about the floor. Then flames began to leap around and between the two, as they danced, struck, and juggled. The fires never seared or scorched either, and impressive feat considering Scyrvern’s wild hair. Then came gusts of wind, and streams of water, raging about the pair as if the very elements were at war with each other. Through it all, no serious blow was landed to either party. Still, it was plain to see, it was from no lack of effort on the part of husband or wife. Sweat ran freely from both, as the hot sun, belts of flame, and exertion all worked to tax their well toned and fit physiques. Dust from the earth rose to mingle with the sweat in grimy streaks on faces and necks, while hair became matted to damp skin. Still the pair strove for minuets more, seemingly able to continue indefinitely.

Suddenly it was over, and Gwillim and Scyrvensrel each caught three blades as they came down. Right hand, left hand, and toothy grins clasped their blades in turn. Scyrven’s blade passed between her teeth and down her throat, but she’d done this before, and pulled it out without earning even a scratch. Gwillim’s blade, significantly broader and longer, had been caught so that it lay across his mouth, parallel to his lips. Both were breathing heavily, but were otherwise not sorely taxed by the performance, despite the heat and dusty conditions. Gwillim winked playfully at his wife, as he sheathed his blades, and turned with her to take a bow before the gathered audience, to the cheers of the youngsters and polite applause of the adults. The performance had required skill, focus and excellent timing on both their parts, and both had performed flawlessly.  It was due in large part to the trust they had in each other. They weren’t lovers, not properly anyway. They were more like blade brothers; they knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses and how to maximize and compensate accordingly. It was an uncommon strength of bond between them, and they knew it. Both hoped Alfhi would find as much with her mate in time, but that was some years away yet.

Gwillim linked his arm through his wife’s as he escorted her off the playing field so the youngsters could resume their mock battles. He asked if she would like to bathe before the evening’s festivities with the princes, he may have hinted at a good deal more, but was very careful to keep his voice from traveling beyond his wife’s perception. He would happily follow her lead, if she wished to retire with him, or go his own way if she preferred some solitude after the long journey.  Still, a good soak to help the muscles relax would do them both good, particularly after the long performance… Alfhildr scampers over to them, but is sent to watch her cousins, and if she should perchance get into mischief to do so without getting caught. Scyrvensrel and Gwillim were last seen walking towards their rooms, calling for water and a very large tub, to be drwan up. Servants scurried to comply, lest they suffer the heat of both the sun and their master's wrath.

[hider=Summary] A drakkan husband and wife, dance for the gathered family and then retire for a brief rest before the princes demand their presence for the choosing.[/hider]