Sunbeam Lair auferstehung

nothing.
swiftly mahler was reminded of alarian; there was something within the flat black wells that brought to mind how the cherub had gazed upon him. but this was no seraph; a devil, an addled thing, oiled with dark smoke and some bitter promise of inexplicable things on his tongue. to his knowledge, no wolfess had shown interest in the musiker since his arrival. and though it was not something mahler wished, having no desire for children that sprung from such unions, he found it curious he had come to be an object of intrigue for males.
uncomfortable, he let none of this show upon his countenance. "vhat do you vant?" came the creek wolf's rumble, the hard amethyst of his stare boring into the pools of spilled ink, marveling gruffly at the contrast of white around them.