Neverwinter Forest Water from your broken iris fell toward the floor

The back and forth went on, Simmik pleading with Mal to let the stripped wolf stay, whilst Mal commanded he not and for obvious good reason. Friend or not now to Simmik, this did not mean that the Saints wolf was now a friend of theirs by default. He was their enemy and should be treated as such, despite the fact that Simmik now held feelings for the man at her side. She was in the wrong here. She was the traitor to this pack.


Black muzzle crinkled and lip quivering, she watches as Simmik and her new found lover share a small manner of affection before he is dismissed and despite the mocking glint in his wild yellow gaze, he does so quietly. After all, surely to Kynareth, the battle had already been won here- Simmik now was one of their own. An obvious case of Stockholm syndrome, Vallkyrie couldn’t help but snort. To Simmik's words, stating she wanted to speak with Mal without an audience, Kyr could feel bile rising in her throat. After her agruing so much to be allowed the Saint leader to stay, now she would be hypocritical herself and try to have them leave?


She was mistaken. This was their land, their home. If Mal so wished to lead her away, Vallkyrie would not follow but alas, she sat her happy little ass down right then and there. She did not bother to address the presence of their former Beta any longer. Icy eyes only watched out beyond the borders of her home and unto the open grounds beyond, to the large silhouette of the Saint's lead. The huntress would not let him out of her sight if she could help it.