Blackfeather Woods end of an empire

Though perhaps it would have been courteous to call at the borders, Osiris had not been made to linger long and thus had reasoned that there had been little reason to call for it might have very well been that no sooner did his call end a figure came into view, movements rapid and hostile. An understandable response, for there was a certain level of possession upon borders by those that led and those that were tasked with guarding the urine markings. As rapid as the alpha's steps towards him, Osiris assessed him, pupils narrowing within their pools of iced champagne, noting the tense coil of the other man's muscles before he leapt forward and landed, teeth bared and hackles bristled. Perhaps another might have found the sheer hostility imposing, unnecessary or frightening. Osiris had seen worse, felt the teeth of a loved one against his throat, the threaten to crush, the warning of death if he did not cease his resistance and leave Flightless Falcons peaceably. Tyrannus had been something awful, memorizing only in a way that a tyrant could be: impressive because of the fear he struck within the hearts and souls of all of those that knew him. There should have been fear, perhaps, at the alpha's display but there was not. There was only a respect: something that the domineering Osiris could mutually connect with.

There was more than a respectful distance between the borders of the grim forest and Osiris' corporeal presence but he did not raise his voice to argue. Dominance had been shown and if he wished to have any chance at acceptance the divinity reincarnate understood that he would have to abide by and accept the other man's control. “My apologizes,” Osiris spoke, breaking his silence with a submissive bow of his head as he took a few steps back, yielding. “I am Osiris, your lordship,” The sin offered his name, figuring that it would remain a request whether he willingly gave it or not. “I seek a place among your ranks if you have the room, at your approval.” This felt a little too familiar to him, reminding him of how Tyrannus demanded to be addressed and spoken too before he'd gone batshit crazy and chased all males — and thus competition for females — out of Flightless Falcons. This stranger was not Tyrannus, however, and Osiris was showing this level of respect out of his own willingness and not because their was a set of dangerous and powerful jaws clamped around his jugular ready and itching to pierce through.