Returning home from his stint in the Vale, Lecter had paused to wash the scents of Xi'nuata and Fox from his pelt. Jinx knew he visited the monks and their mad warrior; he did not know how she would react to knowing he had gone on a plainly friendly mission to Swiftcurrent. If she inquired, he would answer truthfully, but for now, Lecter would keep such things to himself.

The knowledge he brought with him provoked a howl to break from his lips for the one called Majesty. Ultimately, Jinx was to make the final decision, but enforcement of her recent ruling would not harm anyone.

The man who approached was large, darkfurred, but Lecter was unimpressed both by his size and his ridiculous moniker. The shaman had not historically been a wolf to grind his higher rank into the noses of those below him, but in the recent span of months, Lecter had found a grim pleasure in such an activity.

Majesty did not approach with deference, and the madman lay his cold glittering gaze upon the other for a moment, before long strides ate away the ground between them. Smaller though he was in bulk, the slender witch had maintained his height even in age, and yellowed fangs showed plainly his demand for obeisance, as did the plume arched above his thin flanks and the prickling of bloodied fur along his shoulders and spine.

Lecter's anger dulled somewhat as the other lowered himself into a stance of acceptable deference, and he cupped his ears forward, eyes shining with amusement at the other's annoyingly long-winded speech.

Lecter was a wild creature, prone to the movements and gestures of one living within a hierarchy. He was placed second only to Jinx; therefore Majesty's babble about "puffing" fell on deaf ears. The threat to leave was greeted with a snort of derision.

"I am not your family, I am your better. Add to that, I am Jinx's mate and I know that she holds little patience for those of your ilk. I have been to the Creek. It was there I was informed that you hung around their lands and refused to leave."

Eyes burned, and he took a further step in Majesty's direction. "You will not go there again, save unless you are sent. And if you break my word, do not believe your "family" will save you. I will personally drag you up the Mount and throw you from the highest pinnacle." He did not like the self-righteous mound of a creature, and took pleasure in his threats. "I will bring that day and today to Jinx's attention. Her final word is law, of course." Yet his gaze shone with a confidence that Majesty was shunned from; he was the consort of the venomous sylph, and this one but a subordinate to her whims.

Lecter had been expecting an outburst from Majesty, but the long parade of words that broke from the male bored him. He was threatening a dangerous wolf, the little fool; toxicologist Tyrande might call herself, but she had not proved her skills. Lecter had done so in his long life, and would not be averse to poisoning Majesty if it came to such.

He did not listen to the dark male's excuses for why he had gone to the Creek; the shaman turned his back and began back down the path he had come. Fully cognizant that this left him open for attack, Lecter nevertheless flicked his plume in a dismissive way and began to saunter back toward his den, having said his piece.

Majesty meant nothing to him. Perhaps the speech-writing dullard would lunge for him, but that would mean dismissal from the pack, perhaps death. He would do well to watch behind himself and stay out of the shaman's path; he still had not found a sacrifice, and Majesty was blooded and hale enough to suffice.