The bottles clinked merrily against one another, even wrapped as they were in fine woolen material and a deer-skin pack tied with dried twine. The package had been tucked under one arm, and although the bulk seemed awkward, the man rose with a well-earned ease. His silver mare fidgeted at the sight, scent and sound of many wolves - Well-trod paths had made clear the passages about the merchant camp. Many voices sang out to the man on the silver horse, as he guided the fickle creature past stalls brimmed with pelts and trinkets; But, save for a cursory and uninterested glance from venomous olive eyes, the monarch of the Thistle Kingdom remained not enticed.
He came for one purpose only. One might have assumed that he came with curiosity, but in truth, Sirius already knew the vast majority that there was to know about these traveling traders. His eyes and ears had been slipping amongst the crowd since it had formed - Scentless canines that came and traded under their name alone, not the calling of the secretive pack from whence they came. With the skill of the Family more than adequate to sate the Revlis' man's famished desire for information, he might have found little need to arrive at the Leader's gathering. Oh, but perhaps it was information on the other packs that he sought? That may have been true, perhaps, for his curiosity in the political matters of neighbors both near and far was always hungry for more details, more knowledge. Most of this stemmed from a deep-rooted paranoia about the secrecy of his own pack.
But this lead to the real reason that Sirius Revlis was currently riding his mare to the tent in which lingered the most powerful rulers in Nova Scotia. Sheer arrogance drove him to dismount, tethering the silver mare to a nearby post (he was satisfied that none would steal the rather splendid equine - if any such sticky fingers arose, there were those loyal to him amongst the milling crowds that would surely stop them). And yes, it was pure, selfish pride, the innate desire to be recognized for the King that he was, that drew the man to thrust aside the tent-flap and step boldly into a milling of rivals. His heavy bear-fur cloak rustled like dark wings about the man, giving him a purposeful air of darkness. As narcissistic as he was, careful thought had gone into Sirius' appearance - His hair, usually unkempt in dark, unruly locks, was combed and curly. The silver broach that held the cloak clasped at his throat had been polished by nimble female fingers, but even its glitter was dull compared to the intense glint in the acidic eyes which immediately scanned the gathering.
Some faces he recognized instantly - Naniko was offered a slight nod, although she alone would get such respect. The rest were met with direct, albeit curious, stares; Sirius was by no means the picker of fights, nor an unnecessary aggravator. The man was rather leanly built compared to some of the other men in the room. His coyote blood had thinned his build, and topped his dark head with two large ears. But the wolf that ran through his veins made the man tall, tall enough to look down his dark nose at a fair few of those present. Some of the alphas he could place by appearance, for many had been described to him before; But the names and memories were hazy, and Sirius internally chided himself for not being further prepared.
The hesitation in which his eyes combed the crowd was quick to end. With the rustle of his thick cloak following each step, the wicked monarch retrieved his wrapped bundle from beneath the garment and quickly cut through the twine with one sharply-clawed finger. The hide and cloth fell aside, revealing three beautiful bottles of deep red wine. The Thistle King placed each carefully on the gift table, lovingly stroking the side of one rich Barbera Superiore, a wine cultivated in some of his fondest memories of Italy. The blood-red liquid sloshed potently against the deep green hue of the bottle as he set it down.
Having given these gifts he had deemed suitable for the occasion, the man's narrowed pupils rose instantly to a face he recognized - Ezekiel sat alone, as Sirius had suspected he would. The Aquila allied himself with no fool easily, but their relationship seemed less tenuous than those who most probably didn't even know who he was. Well, they would come to recognize the thistle monarch soon enough; Black lips lifted in a smirk as the dark man moved to take a place aside his golden counterpart. "Making friends, are we, Gabrielson?" Came the husky, heavily sarcastic purr of greeting, although his eyes did not linger on the man, but continued to rove over the amassed group. Ezekiel would most probably know that Sirius was assessing each of them in turn - The alpha of Inferni seemed to have a rather disturbing insight into how the wicked mind of the Salsolan King worked. "Oh, do try and look less miserable. Such poor social etiquette you have - They'll assume we're both cruel and distasteful men, scowling as you are," Sirius' serpentine jest was offered with the slyest of grins, but as amusing as banter was with the easily annoyed Ezekiel, it was the other Lords and Ladies who still held the interest of his poisonous gaze.
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