Black Morass glowbell [m]

It seems to make her more comfortable when he doesn’t move towards her like most do after first introductions. Kynareth’s knows the effect he has on others, especially flighty, frightened women. He knows better not to move a muscle if he wants to engage in an actual conversation with her. Or a conversation that she actually feels comfortable enough to engage in and not run away from like a spooked hare in the tall grass. 

All she answers back with is a yes and he momentarily furrows his brows. Yes. Yes to what? A home or pack land? Maybe both then. He settles on both. That’s good to know that there is a new pack settling somewhere in the teekons for his lot to terrorize when the time comes.

His face is quick to smooth out as he nods back to the blonde shewolf. Then she’s bravely asking him for his own name and he can’t help the smile that comes to his face. It’s not predatory, only amused and it contorts his face handsomely.

“Kynareth Deagon of the Abbey, Alpha of the Saints of the Dying Light.” He introduces his extravagant name, but he does so casually. “The pack that calls this place home.” He hints subtly that she’s too close for to his territory for his liking. His voice isn’t malicious, only smooth and suggestive, but not in any type of sexual manner. The type of suggestive that hints at his earlier words: you had to have passed through my territory in order to get here. You’re too close for my comfort. 

He continues still. “How did you get here Teya?” He asks in a way that seems almost innocent.