Hideaway Strath in your crypt

He wants to scoff, typical of a pack that hears whispers in the dark to assume how the Saints operate. They don’t know shit, but for now he smiles. Not a I’m trying not to be rude smile, but a genuine one, for he truly does think it’s hilarious. His viciousness is individualized. For if a pack has done nothing wrong, then he is well enough to say they are on neutral terms.

Yet despite what everyone might think, Kynareth is a reasonable man and is willing to compromise. Thea other packs are not, so truly who is the close minded one here? It’s not the Saints that’s for sure. For this exact reason is why he is becoming sick of being polite and sweet. Which is exactly what he has been so far. 

So as he listens he nods carefully, taking in what the alpha of Moonspear has to say, the others beside him going quiet. Once finished he opens his mouth to speak, all the while impressive fangs gleam occasionally. Don’t loose your shit, Kynareth. Don’t fucking do it. Be calm, be a good boy. Do what mother dearest taught you. He chants in his sickly mind. 

“Ah yes, Moonspear. I’ve heard of your pack as well.” He comments uselessly in a casual, conversational tone. “As for the rumors of Ursus? Yes, they’re true.” He sighs then, regarding the male’s next statement. “As for us? Yes, we are a bit more violent then most, but we only offer that to those who cross us and really we desire neutrality if we cannot agree upon an alliance with most. Truly, we are quite reasonable despite the rumors.” He flicks his eyes between the trio. “We are very hospitable to allies and will even fight to the death for them. I wish for an alliance or at least neutrality with your pack, but I suppose only time can tell, yes?” He ends with a slight cock of his head. All the words coming from his mouth smooth and genuine. Albeit sightly forced to not be said with a growl but they wouldn’t be able to tell.