Blackfeather Woods you have stabbed the Devil in the back

can we pretty please present date this? :D

He is not shy about his hate. It stems from the depths of the cataclysm within his mind until he no longer identifies this hate as something to fear, but the epitome of his desires. To see what tainted blood lives scavenging from the courtesy of daedric gods, rid from the Melonii's sacred land is all of what consumes him. He thirsts for their demise more than he hungers for the love of his own mother, longs for a downfall so terrible that their gods may look upon him with eyes of terror. A stunt to put the acclaimed Devil to shame. Perhaps it is simply the need for chaos that drives his hatred further, like a malevolent spirit that haunts for the sole reason of striking fear within the hearts of its victims. Nevertheless, he is untouchable. Her word does not even come close to grazing his skin as he walks defiantly in the light of his own entitlement. He will not bow to the grace of the false queen, the snake who so conniving wrapped herself around and around his uncle's heart and mind and squeezed, until such a victorious man was rendered useless. 

The nature of her misdeeds is unforgivable, as she will deem his defiance. And he will welcome her punishment.

A violent snarl decorates his maw in fashion, he has grown substantially in the weeks that have passed and he near well exceeds her height, growing into the bold and booming stature of his father before him. It is undeniable that Clavicus is a force to contend with, and as he rears, planting himself purposefully in block of her path, his intent is unmistakable. His hackles rise, instinct puffs out his chest to outsize the other, and he fixates endarkened eyes upon the woman whom he loathes with the fiber of his being. Clavicus seeks no peace, his actions are a mark of war. "You have angered many in your abduction of a title that is not yours to bear," He pauses, searching for the clarity to continue, but the quaking edge does not drop from his voice. "Others may be content with this treacherous act of betrayal and lack of true blood," and what fools they are. "— but I am not," His ears drop against his skull, a blatant disregard of the title she has claimed. It is not hers, and he needn't be obligated to respect the daughter of a tyrant who in turn, became the very monster before her. Vaati had been correct in warning Potema of the danger of those not of their blood, and God save those who dared to oppose him again.