The Sentinels a winged victory for the sullen

the stranger's initial reaction sets him a little on edge, and instinctively he lowers his own posture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible. but the dark male seems to relax fairly quickly, to the golden mayfair's relief. the sound of his voice almost startles him, but he's sort of glad that he's spoken; he can't really think of a good alternative. he returns the smile, his own slightly apologetic, and nods slightly. he can see how the forest might make a wolf uncomfortable, though it doesn't bother him. maybe it's that strange sense of familiarity — or maybe he simply feels kinship with the ruined place. his gaze wanders from the stranger for a moment, then drifts back, tail swishing idly. though he lacks the words to further their conversation, his expression says plenty; there's warmth and curiosity in his argent eyes, and maybe a sort of expectancy. who are you? hangs silently in the air, coasting for now at the front of the endless wave of questions he'll never get to ask.