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Would it be possible to move this June 2nd? ^=^;;
500+
He was satisfied, if what he felt could even be called satisfaction. While she held no worthy blood within her veins, Sabeen Thames had been obedient, willing to accept the obscurities of the darkness without the idiocies of other such things that inhabited these lands. Her body could provide for him a necessary control. It was not pleasure he sought, although it was an effect of such activities. He wanted something else, something that was practical within his dark mind. And what he wanted required willingness, a submission to his will. The she-wolf had submitted to him, and within her he had planted his seed, allowing her to carry that seed, to spawn it with the coming time. The crow wolf was no fool, and he was not so arrogant as to recognize the possibilities of causality. (And it was causality alone that spun the world.) He had scented the change within the woman’s body. She would bear his spawn, if her blood was even close to being able to support the seed of his loins. Only time would tell, and time was not an issue for the Korean. Her fate and the fate of the seed within her mattered very little. She was, simply put, ‘back up’.
Those black paws, tearing the earth with unforgiving talons, carried the secui toward the packlands in which his daughter had fled, seeking refuge. That time was almost near, he sensed, the black orbs flickering with that darkness. The dark gods would allow him to know. They would tell him when the time had come. But for now he would bide his time with his games, just as he had been doing since his arrival within these lands. And he knew how to play these games well. The pied brute was patient, like a snake coiled to strike, hidden within a dark lair. And that dark lair was the pied brute’s heart. It was empty, hollow, dark, devoid of anything save for those dangerous, dark waters of rage that lay dormant. But now, though the time had not yet come, he returned to Dahlia’s borders. Already several wolves had been foolish enough to fall victim to his games. He did not doubt that Cwmfen was alerted of his activities—how long would it take, how many lives would it take, to force her from this place. How long until she came to him?
Suddenly, abruptly, he was upon the boarders of this pack. And suddenly, abruptly, the eerily fluid movements of the crow wolf had ceased. The dual hues of his coat screamed a silent warning as he stood with that perpetually erected posture that commanded and demanded submission. The emotionless façade was harsh and hollow, distorting the beautiful features of his face, creating a terrible visage of a demon. And indeed those black ears rose above his head like horns. The Korean’s fathomless eyes pierced ultimately a lighter figure that stood out in his colourless world, knowing that the thing belonged to this pack. He ignored the insignificant thing at the adult’s feet—that was not his target. The corners of his cruel lips twitched with the efforts of a sneer, but he fell still. In the silence he merely watched with the cold eyes of a snake. And, as the hooded pattern of his coat suggested, he brought Death to this thing. He was compelled.