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Haha, thanks~ ^=^ Do you want Corvus to attack Slay or the other way around?
500+
For a time the male was a lone. And time moved silently, slow and contemplative—or had it stopped? For a moment, the wind had become still, the world holding its breath in fear of the night. The pied brute remained alone, as solitary in this world as he was in his soul. The world was an empty place, filled with those inferior things that deserved not life and not death but to exist no more. Very few creatures had the power to unmake another—only the gods knew. But silently the male contemplated the means by which such a thing would be achieved. For a moment, that dark mind considered it, but in the end there was nothing for him to know. The Korean understood that, for now, he was not permitted to know. But soon, he thought, soon it would be time. And the world would see. There were some creatures that were meant to exist and some who simply were not meant to exist. And the world would thrive, and it would thrive for him.
The black aurals, raised above his head like the horns of some demon, heard it. It approached, nosily, heavily, without discretion. The pied wolf sneered, or so the lips twitched in vain for the effort. But the emotionless façade remained unmoved, and the wolf remained unmoved. He stood as he was accustom, as lithic as the effigy of some long forgotten god. The other was black and white, but the markings were less threatening than his own, though he did not disregard the fact that some snakes carried the mark of diamonds. It drank noisily in his presence, the maw dipped in the pool to take in the waters cooled by shadows. And it did not see him. Not until the lighter eyes were opened to see what the water would allow him to see. A sneer was allowed to flicker over those lips as he laughed quietly, almost inaudibly, a horrible, mirthless grating that clawed the air. “Who am I?” that suave, tenor voice invited, completing the unfinished words of this thing. But he did not answer that query.
It was wary, its hackles rising. But the male was smaller, unshifted. The sneer that had flickered silently upon that cruel maw ceased to exist, that cold façade growing hard. The wind began to move once more, a quiet, weak whisper that whimpered in his ears. And the scent that was brought to him carried that unmistakable mark. “You are Dahlian.” That empty tenor stated with sounds that dripped with that sinister intent. His head tilted slightly, a movement so eerily fluid, so sudden for his stillness, that one might expect the grating of stone to sound, a shifting of two slabs of rock against one another. But there was nothing but silence. The erected tail carved a single sinuous path in the air, the fathomless orbs cutting the space between them as the Korean made a silent challenge. Those biologically narrow eyes mocked the other. It was as if the time were approaching. This game he played would soon end. Soon Cwmfen would be moved to come to him.