There was extremely little that Sinaaq could claim that he cared for in the world; perhaps even nothing anymore beyond himself. His own well being, his own gain. It was selfishness in it's extremest form and vanity in it's ugliest and yet Sinaaq could not see the point in bothering to alter this conclusion to any degree. Caring had earned him every crack and fissure in his wretched heart, caring had turned him into the “darkling” that he had willingly embraced at the death of Frigga. Quicksilver was gone now, and frankly, there was little that Sinaaq felt held him to the Spine. His loyalties were not to some play pretend Child Princess Queen and an old man, who happened to be not only her co-leader but also her mate. His loyalty, too, had been taken advantage of, stepped on and left shattered on the floor — this too he was possessive over. Except, Sinaaq was not entirely sure what to do with himself. He was a loner by nature, having learned his lessons in regards to forming attachments to anything long ago, but there was still that tiny poisonous part of him that yearned for companionship. It was sucking and greedy that little tickle of desire that did not solely benefit him in some way (as far as he could see anyway) and Sinaaq had tried, over and over, to kill it. It remained persistent, hell-bent on surviving.

The scent of a rotted corpse assaulted the darkling's nose and it wrinkled in disgust, lip curling back over his teeth as he paused in his steps, discerning rather quickly that it was not too far from his position, mixed suddenly as it was by the fresh urination of another. A female. One that did not belong to the Spine. Loyalty might not have been something that Sinaaq was willing to spare, it fell true, nevertheless, that for the moment the Spine was his home and some bitch was marking it as her own. Though he was of no consequence, of no importance to this pack for however long he inhabited it's territory it was his and Sinaaq did not like when others rather unwelcome as they were, touched what did not belong to them.

He soon caught sight of the culprit, sashaying as big as you please, back towards the border line that she was clearly in violation of having broken, the mound of rotten flesh, broken earth and browned and littered snow a dead give away. Having never met Mara before Sinaaq was not able to place her based on sight alone, but he could only take a guess as to who their intruder was by what Cara and Kaname had spoken of the enigmatic Mara upon his and Quicksilver's imitation. Ironic, almost, that it was Sinaaq that lingered as opposed to his eager, smooth friend. Or once friend. That, however, was a contemplation for another day. "Lovely,” The Darkling cooed after the woman maliciously, eyes of fierce liquid gold burning into her backside. Sinaaq was not built for brute force and did not outright attack. He favored sly, cunning wit — brains over brawn. "Not so fast," He hissed as he quickened his stride with the intention of planting his body between her and her chosen path of immediate exit. "Leaving so soon, darling?” The darkling inquired, raising his brow into a typical wicked arch over his eye. He spoke as if he intended to entertain the trespasser though he had no such intentions, really. She was going to pay for what she did, but first he wanted to play, and take from her what he could. Knowledge was power, after all.

While the agouti woman assessed him with gray eyes, something that the vanity incarnate noted at mentally as being horrendously boring, Sinaaq took the opportunity to asses her in turn. He was not impressed with what he saw, and found the scars that he could see to be disgusting — though this was because scars, to him, were nothing short of imperfect. He had nearly been imperfect, if not for Solia's expert healing, but that was a painful part of his past he had no current intentions of revisiting. Ever. Thus, the darkling let thoughts of it go. She spoke that she was, indeed, going somewhere, so bold to announce that the Spine was a shit hole, which amused the sadistic darkling who smiled wickedly at her, teeth glinting in the winter sunlight. There had to be some part of her that warned her that he was only toying with her, that when he was done reaping compensation for her touching what didn't belong to her she would suffer with the memory for the rest of her life. After all, he had killed his own (least favorite) sister in cold blood, and she...well this little imp was nothing to him. Inconsequential in the long run, as far as Sinaaq cared to see.

“Astounding,” Sinaaq breathed slyly, as he watched her side step him, and begin to move past. Lip curled back ever so slightly at the nearly overpowering urge to take a decent sized chunk out of her plain hide, but alas, he wasn't done toying with his new little pet the woman yet. Immediately, at her words, which entirely contradicted her actions, he doubted that her intelligence spanned very high. “You say the Spine is such a shit hole,” The words were heavily emphasized, made even rougher by his Germanic accent. “And yet you trespass and urinate all over it which would imply that you don't think it's the shit hole you spoke it was.” The darkling paused, coming to the climax of his conclusion. “If you truly thought it was a shit hole you would not have risked your tiny, insignificant life to come here.” And if she truly had then she was much more lack witted than the darkling had initially thought.

Bellicose jeer began to tug it's way across the darkling's lips as she continued to press on, intent on ignoring his presence. Without hesitation the wretched kept up with her with much ease, knowing that if he had truly desired too he could quickly out stride her. For now, he allowed her to think that she was slipping from between his grasp like smoke. He would allow her that falsity if only because it aided his cause. As she no doubt though of him if her look was anything to go off of, he was amused that she thought she was so clever; that she would slip from him. In truth, vanity incarnate had no intentions of letting her go. Would he kill her? That depended. Cara's order had been clear: kill the bitch; but killing her would take all the fun out of the game that Sinaaq deigned to play with her. Besides, he never enjoyed doing what he was told, anyway. He was untamed, unchained. If Cara thought she could tie him down and bend him to her will then she was sorely mistaken. If his initial impression did not tell her all that she needed to know of Sinaaq Arrluk then the Spine Queen was truly was as incapable as he currently and with resolute cruelness, thought her to be.

“Do you think so?” The darkling returned in an equality to her own tone, mimicking the nonchalant way in which she had spoken. “So much trouble for a pack you supposedly despise,” Sinaaq certainly wouldn't have risked his own life — a single wolf with a prize upon her head, no less, up against an entire pack who seemed to be gunning for her — to antagonize a pack who lusted for his death, but then again he conceded to his high opinion that he had a higher intelligence level. “Your head holds a pretty price, you realize,” Sinaaq cooed to her, voice dripping with the poison that he swore ran through his veins anymore. “I could tear your pretty little throat out of your body and earn the Queen's favor so quickly.” It was tempting; but of course it was. He was only out for himself, in the long run, though a part of him bulked at the thought of wanting, of groveling for Cara's favor when he had previously determined that it was insignificant to him. Still, he could. He had every right too. It wouldn't be the first time he killed for personal gain, after all.