A flash of thought crossed his mind, soaked in unbridled anger as it was, that he should perhaps exercise underused caution in dealing with Elana. She was of his ilk, after all, if one was to take the title of 'werewolf' world after world had tentatively branded him with through their screams and apply it loosely to the duo, but such thoughts did little to dissuade G'mork from his darkened path.
He had been created to spread fear, not feel it himself.
His iron grip on her wrist only tightened further still with her attempts to escape, the edges of his snarl lighting with malevolent amusement as sharp nails dug into all-too-pliant skin until they were on the verge of drawing the blood he craved but knew would not sate him. Though both wolves could lay claim to being different people, walking in lupine skin as easily as they did human, Atreyu Elana was not. Only his blood would quench the fires licking at the edges of G'mork's desolate mind, only his throat between powerful jaws would see the bony fingers of hunger release the Nothing Wolf completely from their grasp and the heavy weight of the Nothing's command removed from his broad shoulders; the she-wolf in his grasp would prove only to be a distraction on his quest, nothing more.
"Savagery is in my blood, pup, I have heeded it's call for generations." His statement, one that would have been swathed in grandeur had he known aught else in his long life, was delivered on the breath of a growl, words fringed with the barest hint of a lisp as they hissed past sharpened fangs. The tug on his chin was a surprise, the warm hand on chilled flesh unwelcome and swiftly batted away with his free hand, little thought spared to the strength behind the blow nor how rough the movement truly was.
Perhaps Elana was a greater fool than he had first given her credit for, or at the very least she was suffused with a greater amount of bravery than the wolf had seen in an age; none he had ever known would dare lay a hand on him so, none barring the blasted boy whose dagger still laid with Elana's tenuous grasp. Some small vestige of the boy's spirit, a sparrow in the face of the indomitable eagle, could well have lain within the stone blade for the eons G'mork had held onto it, but he did truly doubt the Childlike Empress' champion would see fit to act through a blade he had so carelessly left behind, embedded in the harbinger's chest as he'd continued on his foolish quest to stop the Nothing.
A scoff was on his lips, as mirthless and hollow as he himself was, with the she-wolf's suggestion, dark eyes closed by the heavy hands of amusement for a moment as G'mork tried -- and failed -- to acquaint himself with the idea of being afraid. As far as he had known, he had never felt fear before, why would one of his 'kind' summon such an emotion within him? In truth it was not she he feared, but the blade itself; it had nearly ended his life once before, he had no desire to test if it was capable of finishing the job it had begun on that day lost to time's encroaching. "The day I fear you would be a dark day indeed, sister." he sneered, the familial term unfamiliar on a Nothing-forged tongue. "My blood stains that dagger as it does my veins - or are your own senses so dulled to the worlds about you such a fact escaped your attention? 'Tis my trophy, and mine alone."
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