Felltree Marsh Suffering from FOMO, she can come too

Donovan watches as her ethereal forms appears from the low hanging vines of the ever present willows, she holds power in her stride and he knows she isn’t going to fuck around. Her tail is raised high above her haunches and her ears cup towards him — the shewolf is on high alert and she has every right to. After all, the Saints have gained quite the negative reputation for themselves, have they not? In return Donovan stands confidently, tail curled tightly on his hips. Head and chin held high and his eyes are cold and calculating, yet interested all the same. The priestess beside him holds the rabbits in her maw, he only spares her a quick glance before weaving his eyes on Lumiya.

He can see the way she gazes upon them that this will not end well. She tilts her head back to call for her pack no doubt. Internally he shakes his head. Weak. She calls for her pack because she has no confidence in her own ability to fight him if it came down to it. Though as she steps forward her voice carries over to them with a threat weaving into her words.

This woman is so dull as to not even hear what he has to say? If she were to attack him and the poor little Dove beside him, wouldn’t that make her just as bad as him? Though as he contemplates what he will say he doesn’t even get the first words out before wolf after wolf shows themselves from the eerie forest. Leading up to a total of five, his coingold eyes switch to each and every one. Skillfully, his face displayed no emotion. Only a noticeable interest flits through his eyes. Though momentarily, he does fear for the female alongside him. If they decide to attack, surely she’d be ripped to pieces. He would sacrifice himself for his pack in the blink of an eye, but they will have to see how this plays out, for his ultimate goal for the faerie court is neutrality. 

He hums lowly in acknowledgment, looking around to them, the presence of Riley off to the side unknown to him, he prepares himself to speak.

“I have come peacefully to speak with you, alpha to alpha.” He says lowly, Donovan’s way of politely denying her request for them to leave. His voice holds only a firmness of authority rather than malice. He’ll get straight to business. “It has come to my attention that one of our members has trespassed on your land. You beat him senseless as anyone else would and I do not blame you for that — I would’ve done the same. Though one of your warriors also attacked one of my own — unprovoked might I add. It seems we are on even terms — an eye for an eye so to speak. You haven’t wronged our pack so we wish not to quarrel with you. The only thing I do wish between us is the possibility of neutrality. It will save everyone’s time and energy, perhaps even lives too.” All the while, his eyes never leave her own. “If you are not willing to even give us the time of day to speak without violence, that makes you just as bad as you all make me out to be, no?” At the tail end of his last sentence he gives a quirk of his circular brows to emphasize the question.