Ankyra Sound one gonna help me talk right, one gonna lay me down to sleep

Molten eyes fluttered upward, scoping over the other male's figure with some moderate interest. The ghost had not yet come across this one, but he had always found himself as an austere creature of solitude. The dark-hooded Caiaphas had been the only one he had been drawn to – she would likely be the last. Kierkegaard had already vowed himself to her. For all of his wanderlust, his days of travel had come to an end; and though he was not fond of pack life, the ghostly figure knew that settling down on the coast would likely bring him to a peaceful conclusion. The mercenary had come to terms with the revision to his lifestyle and he was content with all that would come.

The soft-spoken whisper of a greeting brushed against his ears. Drawing his tail upward just slightly, the brute nodded his head to the youthful lad and then cast his gaze to the waters. “Are you pledged to Caiaphas' brood?” his guttural baritone struck the air after a moment. Pulling his survey of the sea back to the darkly cloaked young man, Kierkegaard waited for a response.