Starglow Basin Serpent

@Soto @Osiel

With the basin in sight she lifted her head to let out a long howl, one that announced her own presence along with that of her guest, @Castel. She was still feeling rather proud of her successful recruitment.

It was quite the catch too, she thought. A healthy man with a pretty coat. He appeared suited to the desert, which could not be said for all of their members; herself included.

With his personality she imagined that him and Beau would get along as well. It did not seem that the man spoke to many wolves other than herself, and it would be healthy for him to have another friend.

The basin stretched out before them, its edges blurring into the golds and browns of the desert, and Castel’s pace slowed as he took it in. It wasn’t much to look at, but there was promise here—opportunity if he played it right.

His amber eyes flicked toward Leto, who seemed energized by their arrival, her excitement rolling off her in waves. He followed a few steps behind, watching as she lifted her head to howl.

If this pack was as hungry for new blood as she made it sound, then Castel figured he’d find his place soon enough.

One way or another.

he comes at leto’s first howl, gaze settling on the burnished shadow besides her. this man seemed arslan’s darkened complement; another wolf of saturated bronzes and black that made leto and soto seem drab by comparison. 

he flicks his gaze between them both, before his attention rests on castel - measuring his physical health and presence.

If Castel is a water serpent, Soto must be a rattle snake. Maybe Leto is looking to get bit.

Poison seeping through her veins, carefully injected in the form of the men she surrounds herself with. She smiles at the sight of Soto nonetheless, for she is unaware of her own unfortunate condition.

She awaits his approval, her tail waving low. Has she done well? Has she found a man worthy of her womb? A suitable father for the children Soto demands?

Castel has not been consulted in that area, of course.

He didn’t speak right away, letting the silence do its work, but he stood firm, his posture relaxed but intentional. If this was some kind of test, Castel wasn’t about to fail it. He’d been in far more dangerous situations than this, and he’d learned early on how to hold his ground without making the first move.

Whatever this was—approval, disapproval—it wasn’t his game. Not yet. He flicked his gaze briefly to Leto, who looked uncharacteristically subdued, tail waving low as if waiting for something.

Approval, maybe? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care much either.

Finally, Castel’s smirk sharpened slightly, and he dipped his head, his words deliberate and smooth.

“Castel,” he offered.

one of soto's many hobbies is placing people in strange situations and anticipating what they might do.

he finds it fascinating the way a scientist might find bactera consuming other bacteria fascinating; gristly, brutal, exciting -- a whole world shaped or blotted out in the yawning embrace of cytoplasm.

he waits. leto's manner is soft, gracious almost - but her counterpart appears wary. soto waits for manners that do not come. at last the wolf smirks and speaks and soto's ears flick forward, expression noncommittal.

his gaze turns to leto. es algo gracioso?

She blinks, finding herself confused by Soto's words. She frowns momentarily before pressing herself against Castel, fur mingling with his she tucks her head into the crook of his neck as she looks to Soto. ¿No te gusta?

The pearl had worked hard to bring a new snake back to Verapaz, and she liked this one too. If Soto turned him away, she would have to start over. Or worst of all, she would fail entirely.

Leto was not one to fail.

Castel felt Leto’s warmth pressed to him, the soft brush of her fur as she tried to sway whatever judgment awaited.

Her show of loyalty was useful—he’d keep that in mind.

His amber gaze drifted to Soto, who stood there like a puppet-master, expecting a performance. Castel’s ears twitched at the question—es algo gracioso?—but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he let a slow, measured smirk settle on his muzzle.

Castel had no interest in playing the docile guest. He had come here to gain, not to beg. He tipped his chin slightly, posture smooth but coiled tight with subtle tension.

An overt challenge would be foolish yet—he needed footing. But he could still show teeth, let them feel his hunger and watch for the cracks in their trust. He looked at Soto through quiet eyes. “¿Prefieres que te haga una reverencia, amigo?”

no te gusta? she asks. soto's lamplight gaze drags over her.

no tene modales. soto points out with a thrust of his chin. here was a man come to his doorstep, looking him in the eye with a smirk dancing across his face. juarez would have an eye for that. nino would probably chase him down to exhaustion. and soto -- soto was a different kind of man, but he was old fashioned enough to recognize etiquette earned its place in the table of men and murderers alike.

'amigo'? his lips curl back in a sneer. me gustaría más sin lengua.

then he advances, teeth aiming to seize the smirking man's muzzle and force his head down between his legs where it belonged.

She lets out a cry at the sight, worried by Soto's words; she wonders if he would truly do such a thing, and she is not one to doubt.

She wracks her mind for the right words, struggles in her panic not to translate herself too poorly. ¡Él escuchará! She promises, lowering to her haunches. Please. ¿No quieres que tenga hijos sanos? Her eyes are pleading, not for her own life but for that of the man next to her. She does not want him injured. She tries to appeal to the motivations of Soto, though they are not her own.

If he does not plan to provide them himself, then surely he understands that another must come to finish the job. It was he that told her to find a man after all, so why does he get to be picky?

Leto has not been selective in the least, but she can see that this is the best of what they might get out here.

Perhaps Castel had been too bold.

He recognized the sneer in Soto’s eyes before he lunged. He jerked his head sideways, a narrow dodge that saved him from the crushing grip of Soto’s jaws. A brief snarl escaped him, as he backpedaled a step.

His amber gaze flicked to Leto—she was begging, her words tumbling out in a flurry of concern. Something like annoyance flickered in his eyes. He didn't want some puta begging for his life. Like Castel could not defend himself. Like he were hopeless.

Dropping his head was not an option, but he wasn’t ready to lock jaws with the wolf who called the shots around here. He lifted his muzzle just enough to show his teeth, words delivered in a tight hiss: “Fácil no soy.”

Castel had never bent the knee. He had never tucked his tail. Soto would have to try his luck in killing him first.

it is only his softness for leto that stays his fangs now as the man dances out of reach. 

soto is above all else, a man of reason —  but the ghosts of niño and juarez howl now, demanding deliverance. 

he lifts his chin above that of the lesser male, his tail arcing over muscled spine. 

leto may beg, but soto’s running the ship here — no one else. he advances past the ivory she-wolf, pinning the stranger with a gaze imbued with hunger. un hombre arrogante no m sirve de nada. such men made poor loyalists — leaving the sides of their women cold as they moved onto the next adventure. o tu. 

he advances once more, lip curling  one last chance for leto’s lover to show his place. soto’s single eye appraises the challenger, glittering with a fervid malice all to eager to be indulged.

Neither man complies with her wishes, Soto speaking words that for her delicate heart are only cruel jabs to it's arteries. Now her eyes move to Castel.

Her expression is soft, but god does she want to smack the sense back into that thick skull right now. Wordless, she moves back a tail-length or two. If they are to fight, what can she do but watch?

She appears uneasy, pacing the length of the pair with watchful eyes. It reminds her of hunting the bison back home, watching them clash and taking out the injured party with her brothers and sisters. But these men are not bison, so what is she to do should they be injured? Tend to them? Lick their sorry wounds clean? A single corner of her eye twitches at the thought - the only hint of her irritation that she will allow.

Castel’s ears flick at Soto’s approach, each step brimming with threat. He doesn’t retreat, but he’s no fool, either. He lowers his muzzle just enough to avoid open war, though the danger in his eyes never fades.

Castel’s snarl rumbled in his throat, his teeth bared in momentary defiance. The urge to fight surged through him—every instinct screaming for him to lunge forward, to make Soto bleed for this humiliation. His amber eyes flashed with a hatred he couldn’t hide. Still, he didn’t move.

He let the snarl break into a ragged breath, slowly lowering his head. His shoulders followed, body sinking down until his belly brushed the dust. Even his tail curled tight against his haunches. Every inch of him burned with frustration, but he swallowed it.

His gaze stayed locked on Soto’s chin, refusing to bow his eyes completely. “Bien,” he growled, voice thick with resentment. “No soy un cobarde. Pero no vine a pelear contigo.” His words were clipped, weighted by the cost of his submission.

He didn’t look at Leto. Couldn’t. He felt her presence, the softness that had brought him here. The thought of leaving her behind sparked a different kind of anger, one he shoved down. He needed this place—and for now, he’d endure whatever Soto demanded.