Wapun Meadow to colour in the darker side

@Xan :)))) Hope this is okay lmao, possibly crap bc i'm falling asleep at my desk

It was almost funny how he found himself unable to settle the itch in his paws, the strange longing to do something - it was not a desire to travel, nor learn about the land of which he was wandering across, of that he was certain. He assumed it was only the wish to fight, the urge to release any pent up energy and hone his skills further. He was almost ready to become a mercenary and this adventure was sure to be only be something more he could add to his list of fights [he was ignorantly unaware of how arrogant this thought may be]. That was his only goal in mind when setting off, leaving that dark male with mischievous desires behind as he pondered their conversation. Indeed, he was a curious man but his intentions were ones that Aries himself could have been caught scheming over in another time.

The Svartell boy halted at a rise in the land, sharp icy gaze piercing as it scanned the horizon, only to continue his little quest further. His small journey led him to the meadow, where he lashed his tail and walked in solemn silence.

It was not often that he ventured out beyond his valley, especially as of late. He had members to watch over and actions to keep in check, he couldn’t just pick up and leave whenever he felt like; he was relatively fine living his life this way but, even still, there were times when he just had to get away, even if only for a few moments. It was with said feeling plaguing him that he exited the valley earlier that day and began strolling through the neighbouring territories. Normally, he offered these areas little attention, focusing on his home and ensuring that no one ventured into his claim. Now, however, with some of his members in heat, he felt obligated and responsible for patrolling the surrounding territories and chasing out any that might be worthy of making threats towards him and his wolves.

And these qualifications were met by the male he saw ahead of him, traipsing through the land as if it belonged to him—which it definitely did not, as Xan would have known right away if there was another pack settling so close to his own home.

With a raised tail and incisors flashing, the albino loosed a throaty chuff—gargled, somewhere between a growl and a wuff—in the boy’s direction; one need only look at him to see he was issuing a warning, not yet worked up to the point of attacking.

As he walked, he allowed his thoughts to wander. The desire to draw blood was strong, that longing to bring suffering to another and see fear, defeat in their eyes motivating his movements. The memories, the countless times he had endulged in his sickly pleasures to satisfy that itch in his mind, the darkness that begged for true release. He supposed it was no wonder his sister had cast him away, refusing to see him - but still, his pride and arrogance could not accept that anything was his own fault unless it was the pain of another. His father had said each Svartell man carried some sort of darkness in their soul, and that Aries' came out in the form of a dark personality, while Dakarai's own came as simply a plethora of foolish decisions. The Reaper could hardly find himself able to compare the two... Aries had a bloodlust never truly satisfied, a dark mind consumed by thoughts none should ever see, Dakarai only made idiotic choices.

His thoughts were broken when the scent passed through his nostrils, icy gaze sweeping around until it landed on the figure of a pale man. Normally the ashen youth would not have cared, and simply would have continued on his meaningless meandering, but here was an opportunity. Not only that, but the male seemed already agitated by his presence, a realisation that caused a hidden smirk to grow. "What?" He spoke coldly, no hint of his inner amusement showing upon his features and tail lashing behind him.

The smirk plastered across the male’s face agitated him further, though he’d yet to act on it; had the scent of Blackfeather still been on the youth’s body, he likely would have attacked right then and there, but it was not and so controlling himself was easier. Rather, not necessarily easier, but he felt less inclined to tear flesh from a passerby, even if they were close to his home. Instead, Alexander’s head rose and his tail arched over his back, his dominant nature put on display for all to see. With this stance, his ears were shoved forward and he took several steps in the other’s direction, only to stop with muscles tensed and gaze narrowed into a glare. That simple what irritated him to no end, the boy’s ignorance being in desperate need of correction—or, at the very least, sent away from the immediate vicinity of his valley.

“You’re too close to my pack,” the albino answered, monotonous. “Leave. Now.” Normally, he would not have cared, for the male was neither within his borders nor appearing to have any intention of doing so. There were women within his claim presently in heat, however, and their safety took precedence over all else; for another male to be in any of the territories surrounding Bearclaw meant that Xan had to either send them on their way or rid the world of their existence.

Well, a fight he had desired, and it seemed a fight he would experience. The Reaper eyed the albino as his stance changed, pale tail arched high above his back and head raised as though he was the king of the Wilds. Mentally, the youth rolled his iced eyes. Foolish men did foolish things, and he could almost see the stupidity of this one. A dominant stance was nothing if it could not be backed up with strength and fighting ability, feats that Aries happened to be blessed with. He was a training assassin, his skills were far greater than his age would reveal.

You're too close to my pack. Leave. Now.

The words, spoken so monotonously, caused a flicker of amusement to spark within the Svartell's gaze - he had not intended to approach, nor cross, the borders of any pack. He might be a dangerous young man, but he was not a total fool. He pulled his lip up to reveal sharp fangs, a low rumbling reverberating from his chest as a warning growl. He was going nowhere.