Hideaway Strath Machinery

War does not shift, change, nor becomes phased with what comes toward her at the gate she awaits at. A snow-white wolf with yellow eyes approaches her, a confident stride and a strong gaze, immediately she senses power and confidence, admirable traits to her. War does not move, the machinery has stopped, standing perfectly still she awaits until the other comes to her and speaks.

"These are the lands of the Saints of the Dying Light. I am Nyra, Alpha of the Saints."

”Saints of the dying light… I like that.” War does not smile however, not because she didn’t want to but because she knew not how. Ranks held all meaning in her universe and standing in front of an alpha was a sight to behold, if War had been raised to courtesy she would have bowed, but she was raised for war and destruction, the chaos that could unfold and nothing less, nothing more.

”I am War.” There was no motion or emotion to detect from War, she blinked and that was all the movement there was when she did not speak. She was about to speak further when another wolf came to the gates. A male of different shades of brown, also striking yellow eyes. He smirks and greets her as well the masters had come to the machine’s calling and they were looking upon her with some sort of admiration.

“Welcome stranger. Kynareth Deagon, Grandmaster of the Saints.” War looks at the male now, her movement almost mechanically, alienated from a wolf’s movement. Had War been raised normally she would have bowed and greeted him too, but her emotionless face gave away that she indeed wasn’t a normal wolf of words and courtesy. She wasn’t born an imbecile but raised a warrior, she knew when to growl, put her ears back and when to attack. Put formal greetings and socialization with her packmates had not been top priority to her teachings.

”I am War.” She stated once more to the other wolf.

“Need somethin’?”

Chaos.

”Yes.

Fight – blood – crushing limps and the destruction of life.

”I need someone to fight for.”

In a noble sense she needed a cause, but that was beyond War. She did not seek out glory, ambition or rank. She just wanted to fight, just wanted to tear, rip to pieces and see the blood flow and let it haunt her in her dreams.

”My home broke. Too weak.” She stated it bluntly, simply and there was nothing else to it than that. She still looked at the male, nothing else about her had changed or moved since he first had arrived. She looked blankly at him with no real expression but the one of a cold piece of metal. There was nothing to see on her face, nothing to read into.

”Are you the one?” She asked them both. The alphas of saints of a dying light, a light that had never touched War.

War was without light.