Dragoncrest Cliffs 'cause london is drowing and i live by the river

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At the sharp hiss of the woman, he lowers once more, taking into account the severity of both the situation and the commander herself. There is little room to have pride in the presence of the woman, and less so to have an ego; his confidence wavers while her eyes land unwavering against him, and it is a feeling he both hates and chooses to ignore. He cannot escape what he has landed himself in, and he knows he cannot try. This is his only option, despite every urge he feels to rip her face off for pushing him in the way she does. However, her condition of his admission is one that revives his intrigue, and something within him stirs; readiness. Perhaps it is the curiosity that something about him should cause her to mark him as something of a special circumstance, and he wonders if his hesitance is really hesitance at all; his mind is made up. "Isengrim... Cairn," He pauses once before breathing out the name of his father's family, perhaps it would spark some recognision within the woman that he was not some simple dreg from a line of wolves with nothing to their name. The Leviathan was gone, but his presence would always linger, Isengrim was sure of it. The bay was his, and as the last male of his family, he would take what was his in due time.

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