Hoshor Plains Looking for life

A brow of the silencer quirked; masked scrutiny stationed harshly across chiselled features as Donovan rumbled with his laughter, a heavy resounding not unlike Aries' own - but where the brindle's tongue lay smooth as silk, a ribbon of malice to snake around their nescient throats, the silencer's was wrought with unremitting thunder. Foreboding.

"Pity, I’m not quite the performer you’re after," he mused, thin line of obsidian tugging slyly at the corner of his lips. While eternally bid to perform his ominous dance with sobriety, discountenance, the Svartell savoured a challenge, particularly when it poised itself so wistfully ahead of his grasp. While he endured with inexorable combat, soundless torment, he thrived off these direful avocations; to brandish such a proposition, it would scarcely remain irrecoverable.

The agouti man still fumed in the corner – the verklempt boy had not been forgotten, but the star-born could feel every stroke of wind against his spine, hear the huff of every exhale from their lungs, see the very whiskers quiver upon their muzzles; he would not be caught unawares.

A purr released from the throat of the alpha then, waltzing forward over the earth as though he were god themself. Aries held his ground, standing in refined smoothness, the picture of eerie finesse – a mere shadow, forbidding in presence alone. A silence fell, once the other ceased his words… and the knight took it upon himself to break it, words piercing the gloom like a knife to flesh. "I had little intention of staying," he uttered, close, words gravelly yet sinistrous upon his tongue, "my time has other uses."

With that, he began to stray further to the umbra of their surroundings, deliberately drawled out in obscurity, yet passed a single glance back to stare coolly toward the pair before beginning to dissolve into the coming night.