Moonspear it would take a strong, strong man

She could have predicted the words; who knew them, better than one another? Her ears pivoted backward as her gaze did not remove itself from the horizon until Alya spoke again, proving the very thought that had come to mind. A heavy exhale was all but forced from her lips, and she found her gaze softening a measure. Alya knew the right thing to say to temper the tempest that she could become, if only for a little while. 

Hydra moved toward her replica and asked, then: alone? 

Want company? Seemed to be the real question there. Hydra could not deduce whether it was her sisters itch or her own she felt in her breast. When Alya left she would know for certain what it was and would act on it regardless of the way her sister responded, as she was wont to do; but as ever, Hydra would give Alya her space. She had known for a long while that Alya needed to find something without a man beside her; Hydra could not help but want to see, as she felt she knew what Alya would discover, having sensed something of it herself. Alya, who was Hydra and Lyra and herself, needed no man to make her whole. Their strength, their beauty, their power, it was theirs—and only they three could bring men to their knees. But it needed to be without the oppressive shadow of men not their worth. Nikai had been kind, and surely had given Alya something that she had needed... but Hydra felt he was not enough, would never be enough—

Though, could any wolf amount to what she equated her sisters worth to be?