Shadewood you are at war, even in your dreams

Nero didn't react outwardly, but Djehanne could see the careful calculations he took in reading her expression. His gaze was almost as quizzical as her own, though the genuity of his curiousity seemed far beyond her own. This entire meeting had been one of strategy and focus, though it seemed like the only real interest was coming from the puzzle before her. Nero, she thought. It was a name fitting of such a regal male, and one dark enough to compliment without the slightest insult. And Tacita, as he had called her, was a name that only scratched the surface of the acidity she held within. 

Without thinking twice, she closed the last of the distance between them, only to end up with her snout as close as he would allow. She began to sniff with a mad sort of need, as if being able to take in his scent and remember it was the only thing saving her from sure death. Once she had gotten enough of him to know him by more than just the simple name she'd been given, she sat back on her haunces and lifted her own head so that he could mimick the strange behavior, should it so please him.