Lion Head Mesa ساخط khasara

Sayf was a complicated creature. On the surface, he allowed those around him to think of him as pliant and playful—easily bent to the will of others. To some extent, he was all of those things, but that was only one version of himself. His childhood had saw to it that he created many versions of Sayf; it was how he had stayed safe. But certain things could trigger his less accommodating alters. Things like disrespect to the one he held most dear: Jawahir. 

So when the coywolf blew off the jewel's obvious anger, their palpable grief, the servant's entire demeanor changed. He straightened from his seductive lilt, his face hardened with anger, his gaze promised violence. Once the protector was out, he was hard to put back in the box of his mind. No, he said, taking a step towards the new one. You don't know how easily I can rip your eyes from their sockets, half-breed, he sneered. He wanted this man gone. He wanted to comfort his companion. Seconds ago, he had looked upon the coywolf with intrigue and desire, now he only considered him in the way.