Hoshor Plains blood will spill into the gutters and it will stain the morning sun

His words led her to believe that it was indeed a conversation he sought. Liri padded unevenly to him, grasses parting around her small form to allow her admission. He is a man of titan proportions as her dark gaze finds when it lifts to him, much like her mate. Yet, that is where his similarity to Kavik ends. He is pale, much like the fae, though unmarried by the same horror or peppered stripe. His blood red optics are closed off, somewhere between cold and analytical. 

She glances to the sky, oak gaze lingering on the brewing storm. "So it is. It's the season for it," she remarks in passing for the autumns are particularly wet in the Flatlands. 

"My home is near here. Where will you go for shelter?" Liri asks curiously. He smells of wild things, the life of solitude. Liri would recognise it. 

Perhaps he has no interest in a pack, it would not be the first occasion where the sylph had met a rogue who preferred to be alone. Yet, if his answer revealed he had nowhere to turn to, perhaps he would be interested in joining their ranks.