Firefly Glen Feeling eternal, this pain is an illusion

Hydra watched as he mulled, and listened as he thought to reveal himself and his ways to her. Her muzzle dipped imperceptibly to cover what he had left vulnerable on his own person, and her notched ear twitched as he spoke on—the amusement on his features was only mirrored on her own by the end of his words, and Hydra's eyes flashed.

He was not the first of his sort she had ever met; she was certain he would not be the last, either. She had suspected as much, admittedly; somehow, these wolves gravitated toward here... or perhaps towards her, she thought vainly. As though she were the beacon for wicked things. Hydra, too, appreciated cultivating such things when she could—and when she could not, she got rid of them. Your honesty is appreciated, she hummed in earnest, and after a beat, she drawled, so, you aspire to be my neighbor, then. And you command others to kill at your leisure, she seemed to be considering something, and asked, tell me, why should I permit your residency? What is it that you can do for me? Hydra was watchful of him, each sense honed in upon the man with apt interest. She recognized she had more to gain than to lose, and yet should he be a threat to her children Hydra would do as all mothers would—make he and his wish they had never lived, until she at last she decided to be merciful and granted such a request.

But she was not a woman known well for her mercy. Not anymore.

Still, here and now the excitement this presented to her appealed to her baser, darker nature; she could not help but see the potential in all of this.