Hideaway Strath I taste you on my tongue

Kynareth leaning against a tree when the man of the hour comes. Kyn sweeps his hawkish orbs over the snow until he meets the others gaze. “Ah, yes.” He comments uselessly. “I’ve been meaning to show you around.” The grandmaster pushes off the tree and moves closer, only leaving a fair foot or so in between them.

Already he feels the twinge of a smirk pull at his lips. This man seems brave, ready to please, happy. Perhaps he hasn’t been a part of a pack in sometime. It reminds Donovan about how he doesn’t know his story and how he might just want to. So Kyn nods his head in the opposite direction of him, a universal signal for Let’s go. and he begins a slow, comfortable walk. 

“So, Patroclus.” He finds himself purring. “What brought you here? How has fate dropped you off at the Saints doorstep?” He converses confidently. His entire being — his aura — radiated confidence as he takes sure steps forward, occasionally brushing shoulders with the male beside him.