Sleeping Dragon When you're stuck on a skybridge with your worst enemy

Neither of the two spoke after the commanders' entrance into the exchange. With his belly brushing the rough fabrics of the rocks and his orbs averted from the scene, it was difficult for the pale gentleman to make sense of what was going on. The small, devilish part of him yearned to raise his frame and confront them both yet with his confidence at a thinning level and the added threat of tension radiating from the shadowed pelt of Thuringwethil, his more rational side kept his mouth from opening.

His auds swivelled from their backwards angle as a deep voice spoke in monotone; the ruler once again. Her words seemed less distinguishable than the first time she spoke, perhaps she had averted her words from his own self to some other being, presumably Wildfire as he could not scent another odour present yet he couldn't be certain. Nevertheless, he refrained from departing the pair, worry and doubt beginning to gnaw at his stomach as thoughts of what may happen to his exhausted figure if the dark master did indeed mean to banish him away.