Northstar Vale The little deaths are a little less, even if just for a moment

Warbone pressured her with a near-snarl of his own, ears pitched forward aggressively even as she relented to him, and dribbled some vague and unhelpful answers that she surely couldn't have thought would sate him. Since she had given him no where else to direct his anger, he became virulently angry with her, every hair on his body rising, demanding. "Stupid, Saena?" the gargoyle rumbled, a clear hostility towards the term. "You have shamed us then -- shamed me! -- showing that side of yourself out there," he spat in her ear. Because whether or not she had been in the wrong, in whatever it had been, he knew he would defend her tooth and nail from any backlash; it didn't mean he had to appreciate being put in the situation.

The wolf recoiled several paces, his copper chest swelling as he looked at her; for the first time with arrogance, and distaste. There is a cry in his head and he hears it in two languages:

Origato jacioniv ocuir! (Let her see!)
Origato jacioniv ocuir! (Let her see!)
Svabol wielgic acht nomenes svaust weatonan ve! (What falls upon those who dishonor me!)

His tail lashed, unable to decipher what any of the words really mean, and a long moment passed before he remembers the tongue they both understand. "We will fight the next time you try to leave this vale."