#bladedteeth

my muse’s reaction to your muse - // accepting{in relation to this}

He laughs - a nasty, twisted growl of a laugh, feeling his claws curl around each of the former Baron’s wrists. Skolas had every thought in his mind to slowly dismember him, seeking the pleasure of his pained yelps. But he doesn’t.The Kell could find use in him yet, even if it meant simply making Khorrvis submit until he was a mindless whelp like the rest of his subjugated wolves.“Death doesn’t cling to me. I am unbreakable.” He returns, hissing back down at the other. He turns his head away - wretching angrily at the feeling of Khorrvis’s spit splashing against his face. The larger wastes no time in yanking him away from the wall and up into the air, a firm hand clasped hard around Khorrvis’s windpipe.

  The Coyote had taken shelter in the Ex-Baron’s den, planning to only stay there for the night while a storm blows over. He was on an expedition, or rather he still is. Red was used to long recon missions, having to practically live in the Wilds for almost months on end, having biases for different species, the ones that seem either hellbent on killing him, or sometimes shrug him off & ignore him. He’s never posed a threat to anyone, always usually neutral, even if it was against the enemy, the wounds he would inflict were always usually non-lethal, shooting hands & legs to disable.

  The Coyote had propped himself against a wall, resting his back against it, he would use his cloak as a cover, a blanket of sorts when he finds it a bit chilly. Then again, he’s able to sleep without a blanket, he just finds it comforting to feel something while he’s trying to sleep ( even then, he has nightmares most of the time, so sleeping is next to impossible with him, making him an insomniac. ) but, what surprised him the most, was the thundering steps that were almost too familiar, the Ex-Baron had joined the Coyote, an embrace or a moment he never thought would happen.

hmmmmmm

gazzile has... mixed feelings, about the fallen. they aren’t particularly hated by him, nor does he like them. if anything, he’s neutral when it comes to encountering them, if they’re not shooting him that is. and this particular encounter isn’t the first time he met a fallen who hasn’t tired to shoot, burn or stab him.

a long, drawn out silence filled the air, both individuals staring at one another. there was no hate between them, their posture relaxed and their gazes neutral. their hands were away from their weapons, as a sign to show that they weren’t interested in fighting, but the oh so deafening silence was getting at the man.

so he spoke up first;

It was only an invitation, extended in the midst of a blizzard that had Yaviks nearly buried under the snow. She'd thought that she'd found shelter in a large cavern, only to quickly find out that her sanctuary was occupied by another -- who told her she could stay.

Her body was tense as soon as she saw the towering eliksni, ready to bolt the moment he came after her. She'd come to expect nothing but hostility from most in her time alone, so the fact that he did the opposite of what she expected sent her mind reeling with confusion.

"I was always taught never to trust anyone with the tongue of a Devil." She said to him, noting his accent, but as her eyes looked the large beast up and down, she noted that he looked similar to her. Ragged, worn of house colors -- a rogue, she could only assume.