The Tangle breathe

A familiar figure appears, full of unfamiliar anger; he doesn't remember Mahler being so... aggressive. He does remember a time when he hadn't remembered him at all, and a time before that when the sight of the man had set his heart racing. Now, he's just alarmed. He steps back abruptly in the face of the bristling advance, several times before he feels safe with the distance. His own hackles ripple along his spine in automatic response, but he does not mirror the male's posturing. Mahler? He smells of the other pack, of the enemy. Alarian has to bite back the urge to laugh. It's such a bitterly strange position to find themselves in. The next words fall from him unbidden, driven by the same feeling. You never seemed like the type to start a war.