style="padding: 2px; position: relative; left: 120px; top: 9px; width: 244px; height: 433px; z-index: 2; overflow: auto;">
I was thinking that maybe he could try and make her blame Cwmfen for Ril’o’s death, since she’s supposed to be protector? And then we could have a thread together sometime in the future?
Also, sorry for the crappiness, OnO
“Do not be afraid of the dark,” the tenor voice said, that sound softened by the quiet tones with which he spoke. And yet, his words were spoken almost as a threat that should not be refused. “It is the night and the dark that is real.” The pied brute watched the frightened wolf with those hollow eyes, unmoved by her fears and pleas. She turned suddenly away from him, and although the crow wolf was not willing to relinquish the prey of this game, he did not yet move, remaining where he was with that patience unburdened by the time of mortals. He was confident that he could catch her should she chose to flee from him. She would not be allowed to leave until this game was completed. But she did not leave, sparing herself the crueler game of his jaws.
“I heard the howl of your packmate,” the quiet tenor soothed with mock sympathy, and indeed he had heard the call of his daughter rise with anger upon the winds. But she had been alone. And she would know now the cost of her passivity with him. “A call of Death.” The black eyes watched the frightened thing carefully, deciding which place would best be tread to provoke the proper response. “Was there no one to fight for him, to protect the boarders?” Those empty tones held very well their mock concern, able to blend the sardonic amusement with the quiet tones of the night.
“The luperci?” A black fire flickered within those colourless eyes, the emotionless façade blank and unadorned by direct displays of his cruelty. “I was born a wolf, you know,” the quiet tenors tested, his voice only partially marred by his Korean tongue. “They turned me when I was young—they are not to be trusted.” And it was not as if this were far from the truth—he had been born a wolf. But he could use the truths and twist them, distort them to tell a completely different tale, one that she would be more liable to believe, to comply to his will. But that was what the villain did in the stories, and in this story, in this game, the crow wolf was the villain. These wretched creatures. They could not understand. But he would destroy them for their ignorance.
The black eyes shifted to look down the path that she had looked back upon. He took a step closer, closing the distance dangerously. The brute’s head lowered so that he was level with her smaller muzzle. “Are you sure that you’d rather continue alone?” He said it as if he were going to allow her to leave. Once more, he presented the victim with that illusion of choice, and she would accept that illusion just as they had because they believed that choice existed. Slowly, he worked himself about her, softening the intensity of his presence, shrouding the edges of honed obsidian with a black, brooding cloud. “I will stay with you.” And she should be thankful of his attention and of his mercy.