Blackfeather Woods here on the nineteenth floor, the neon lights make me calm

a war. iliksis was torn by this prospect. on the one hand, a war left many corpses -- corpses he could raze and dominate how he saw fit. it also tended to leave the vulnerable and just barely alive behind in its wake, something the man was eager to take advantage of. on the other, it often required tremendous risk of life and limb -- something the oilly wolf was not keen on lending. he kept his inward trepidation invisible, flicking his gaze to vaati with a somewhat hopeful expression. in the end, his lust for defilement won, and he cracked a bare grin once more. "suits me."

he would go to war -- if only to satisfy himself. if there was nothing else vaati wished to say of him, the wretch would slink off to make his own preparations.