Twisted Slough how neatly spreads his claws

a soft voice punctuated the air, followed by the dark-backed slithering of a storm-battered guardian. caiaphas' gaze raked brazenly across his withered form, no amount of approval in her unsettlingly pinched face.

alongside her svalinn's posture flushed, climbing to an assertive height with a quiet growl simmering between his white teeth. she drew herself between svalinn and raleska, as if a ward against the wizened patriarch's presence. "or for you - most wolves know better than to approach a trio of strangers." she tacked on a rather pointed stare; the recent events had all but eviscerated her already thinning patience, and she was in little mood to entertain visitors.