Sleeping Dragon i'm still, i'm still an animal

His paws press a steady path over their fringes. Although his primary focus remains the borderlands, especially after the ignorance of more than one intruder in the handful of weeks since he'd been here, he is not blind to the shifts of their flow. Even before he could understand their guests and their purpose in coming here in full, they seemed to shift to status of full-blown members no different in standing from him or any other beast of the Dragon. He was torn between suspicion and outright curiosity, often landing him somewhere in-between the two when he scented them around.

It does not take him too long to realize he is being tracked down. He lifts his nose and pulls up to a stop, in which he turns to face the brutish black female with her head and tail up. Dio quirks a quizzical brow and draws upon his own height in a manner not used in quite some time -- not since Stavern's prized son stood mirrored at his side. He has been a relatively mild presence here upon the Dragon so far, one meant to mend and reestablish himself proper among the society of wolves (and the living, no less), but he is not a stranger to imposing, proud heights as he tail hikes up over his haunches. Just.. a touch rusty, yet it comes off easily with just a shake. He's not afraid to hold onto what is his so far.