Hideaway Strath IV

Roll for Don to grab Whrist here!

Kynareth has a lot on his plate all of a sudden. First he addresses this stranger. He speaks humbly and respectfully, so Donovan doesn’t mind him as much. Yet, as he feels Simmik’s presence come closer he leans his head down to hear what she has to say to him. His eyes only briefly flick over to Simmik before training them on the male before; the one who is apparently her brother.

At this point he is willing to let him slide. He’s already made the decision to spare his life due to Simmik’s careful words whispered in his ever listening ears. Her silky voice causes him to flick his auds down to her and he hums simply in acknowledgment. 

He’s about to speak to the loner when Nyra’s voice causes him to meet her with his eyes. A brisk And who are you to make demands of Kynareth? He already knows shits about to fly off the handle. Knowing Simmik will not take kindly to being treated like that. Yet he has no time to say anything before she righteously continues. An era of pride in her step as she slinks around to the stranger.

Donovan appreciates how willing Nyra is to remind others of his rank, with any other wolf he wouldn’t mind. With Simmik though, he does. A light warning scowl appears on his face as he lifts his head tall. “Nyra.” He hums lowly. Not wanting to publicly demean her by saying anything else. He respects her and hopes to show this by only uttering her name. Hoping his dangerous tone can get his message through all by itself. 

All the while, he’s unaware of the shadow loaning behind him. Whrist’s jealously getting the better of her as she watches the scene unfold. Distracted by his Harbinger he doesn’t notice the black blur of Whrist’s form sprinting towards Ego until her scream reaches his auds. Snapping his head in the direction of the chaos he watches as she’s lunging herself at him, teeth surely going in for bite. 

His eyes are humorously relaxed and he only sighs. A single Fuck. is all that passes through his mind. It all happens so fast and he already knows Simmik is probably going to throw herself into the mix. He cannot let that happen. 

He’s stepping in front of Simmik, eyes still trained on the pair who are about to fight. “Don’t move, please. I’ll handle it.” He says lowly, a promise in his voice. Words meant only for her to hear. 

Hoping Simmik trusts him enough to heed his words, he’s stepping up to move past Nyra calmly. “If you join, you’re getting demoted.” He growls to Nyra then. “Stay there.” Is his next order, there’s no room for her to disobey and it shows in his viscous tone of voice.

Finally, his cool demeanor is gone. Rushing into the fight, flinging himself into the mix. His teeth bared as he kicks up snow moving to snatch his teeth onto Whrist’s scruff. His bite isn’t hard enough to break skin, only to grab and hold. His  intentions are to ram her off of the midnight intruder before she does any real damage. If luck has it he will be able to pin her, if not then so be it. He would stare down at her, a classic battle of domination among wolves. His boxy maw wrinkled up but only barely showing his teeth. A silent plea for Whrist to calm down in his golden eyes.