Lake Rodney only the dead have seen the end of war

the other, maarselok notes with a quick, sweeping assessment of violet gaze — while the bonesilver eye doesn't roam, instead staring like the dead — bears a sharp appearance. a shake of the stranger's head draws violet gaze to the thing 'round his neck and a wariness settles over maarselok. he doesn't know what it is but something deep within him tells him that it's not natural. the only answer, it seemed, maarselok was going to receive were nonverbal for the other male gives his head a shake 'no'. disappointment floods thru him but he shakes it off it a moment later. it was ridiculous to expect everyone, especially the first wolf he's met, to know what had wreaked havoc upon this territory.

hm, maarselok hums in contemplation. his gaze, try as hard as he might, keeps gravitating to that thing on the other man's neck and in lieu of not being overly insulting, maarselok turns his head slightly. shifting his line of vision so that the other wasn't in it was a risk but maarselok — arrogant, perhaps — was confident in his own abilities and thus far has no reason to feel that the stranger was a threat. 'you talk? maarselok asks next, favoring a shorter and to the point dialect, head shifting back to catch any nonverbal communication.