He was... frustrated, yes. Frustrated that his plans had fallen apart due to his mother's apparent inability to fight as she once had; she had folded beneath another and that he was sure would put a rather large dent in his plans. There was absolutely no way the male, Baphomet, would surrender his land to the fallen Queen's son even if Azrael tore his ligaments apart rather than Ruvindra's - he surely had his own brood of children or harem of relations to give the land to. Yes, it put a dent in his plans but where there was change, there was opportunity. Perhaps the most annoying angle of the change was that he was still hindered by his age and thus would have been unable to do anything; another factor was that the male was much heavier, and thus more probable to be stronger, than Tesseract. If there was one thing to be said about Tesseract, it was that he preferred to keep his paws as clean as possible for as long as possible. He had failed Caligula this once but he would... change that, too. Opportunity had come a knocking on Iromar's doors and he would be the one to answer to it. He was much more valuable to the new order than they would ever know - though slighter than many of the new wolves that had infiltrated the pack lands, he was more than aware of his particular... talents, so to say.

No, he would waste no time discussing anything with those other than the King - he did not make friends, particularly not friends who would undoubtedly screw up their noses solely for his mother's failures. He would, of course, keep a particularly close eye on them. If they dared to even look at Celesdue or his Caligula incorrectly, he would take their eyes (if Caligula did not do so herself, of course.) There was business to be had though and he sauntered on the outskirts of the pack's meeting, keeping himself far from their sights though he had no quarrels with the breeze taking his scent to them. Let them know that he lingered about, let his mother clutch onto the hope that he was there for her - ah, he would cleanse her wounds and tend to her but truly he was there for nobody but Caligula. If she wished to leave, he would do without a single look over his shoulder; he was her soul and he must answer to his soul. He eavesdropped as much as he could, too, as he lingered in the mists, his mind calculating and analyzing each and every voice and scent - each silhouette. It would take time for him to collect all he needed to know of the infiltrators but what he did know was simple; they were all large, all similarly coloured except for one (who was smaller, too) and one was heavy with children. The largest male, the one named Baphomet, reeked of his own blood combined with his mother's - at least she had put up a decent fight. This would have been the perfect event to have happened had she fought just a little harder; Baphomet would have done him a favor had she returned the victor. It would have been much easier to drag her off the throne.

Eventually the meeting ended and the corners of his lips pulled into a dark grin; it was time. He sauntered off further into the mists of Iromar to where his mother used to call meetings; the locality before the swamp front, the gator's skull still poised in the centre of the clearing. He circled the area, masking it in his own scent - a tell tale sign of his location before he settled himself in the centre, releasing a low call for the Alpha and no others. He stood tall, his body held proud though inside, part of him bristled at the thought of another believing himself to be... superior. Tesseract was intelligent, yes, but to suppress his own urges for dominance were... difficult at time. He could only hope Caligula could cope herself - she was a dangerous creature, silent and domineering like no other. he would do what he needed to to ensure their future together. If that meant biting his tongue and remaining beneath another for some time then so be it. Give him time and things would bend to his will once more.

At a meager one hundred and twenty five pounds, he did not stand up to much when it came to the male Baphomet and Andras; he was narrow, leggy and though he was more than capable of packing a punch, his strength lay within his mind's ability and the capability of his own speed. He was fast with his mind and fast on his legs; he was passive, too smart to openly challenge Baphomet's rule. Still, he held his own - a pelt of ivory marked by the blazing trail of crimson and black down his spine, his chin marked in a red flame-like marking as he tilted his skull back to voice his call. He was beautiful, his eyes alight with mischief as he awaited the apparent King in silence, tail held horizontally behind him, a mark of his resistance of submission.

Come Baphomet, he is much more useful alive and much more useful on your side than any other. After all, his alliances were fickle... shallow... he needed something solid to adapt to rather than promise of a home. He could have a home anywhere but power... ah, now that did not come easily.

T E S S E R A C T
[ three - soul of caligula ]