Cerulean Cape blood canticle

his teeth are warning enough. the stranger stops their approach but, they do not run. he watches them intently for any movement; although his wounds are not great, they are wounds and drusk would rather not expend the energy necessary for a fight if he can help it.

when she makes noise it is the tone he follows, not the words. he does not know a lot of what is said. common tongue is not his favorite. judging the way she does not shout at him, does not bare her own teeth, and does not have an accusatory note to the sounds, she is not threatening him.

her attitude appears... meek.

boldly turning to face her, squaring off to her position, he searches the air for other scents; maybe she came from a pack? maybe she was a dispersed girl trying to feed the season's impulses. he came closer to study her, which might have made her uncomfortable, but he did not care. there was no heat scent to her, which drusk slowly discovered - making her useless to him.