Bramblepoint devotion and desire

Szymon is very proud of Rannoch and Redshank. ♥
This post is no good. ;-; I am sorry.

Incensed by his littermate’s sudden display of dominance and Redshank’s audacity, Cypress too pressed forward into the throng. It wasn’t a completely altruistic move. He supported Rannoch and would gladly serve as his champion, walking willingly through fire and brimstone for the turquoise-eyed male — but there was selfishness at work here, too. The eidolon had a deep-seated desire to defend his place: a nebulous area below Rian and Rannoch but above everyone else. He said nothing as he drew up alongside his brother, flanking the argent wolf just slightly as he lifted his head and thrust his ears forward upon his skull, their tips in line with the smooth curve of Rannoch’s crown. Every tooth in his mouth gleamed, a row of serrated alabaster cutlery, as he sought to pin Redshank with his sulphureous stare.

With Redshank being preoccupied, Cypress cast his eyes around the circle to the rest of the pack — because somehow, that’s what they had become — as though daring each member to usurp him. His gaze softened when it landed upon Rose; Eshe had always taught him to treat females with a greater modicum of chivalry, after all. And when it landed on Kaori, for a moment he saw Alya — she had replaced Lucy, in a way, for his memories of the Blackthorn girl were few and faraway — and his lantern yellow eyes widened with fearful hope. Her eyes were wrong, though, and he tasted the bitterness of his mistake in those soft, powder blue depths. Tearing his attention away from the female whose markings bore a startling resemblance to his own, he resumed his stern posture and sinister mien.