shiver my timbers, shiver my sides
yo ho, heave ho
there are hungers as strong as the wind and tides
yo ho, heave ho
He had known others would come. It is a thing of common sense that other lands take interest in changes of power. It seemed like just as he had been descending the thrown, as Sulan descended the thrown, the wolves of Spirane had poor timing. It is why he ignores the demanding tone that the summoning howl used. He rises from beside his love, his imprint - the one he had forgotten in his rage for so long, and looks out with a weariness that does not become a king. He shakes, shooing slumber from him as if water from his pelt. They are bedded on the mainland this night and so it makes life easier, traveling as he needs to only over the grass and then through the trees to his border.
He is a patient wolf, as proven by his lack of irritation regarding Natalya's taking her time to fetch the criminal Jaidah. He is patient and he has no need of worry for his home as of yet. He is beginning to see the fruits of his rule in the tasks accomplished by the wolves who followed him and he smiles as he notes the voice of one particularly nosy pup on the winds. Scouting the borders already is he, that Mortz. He smirks, a white toothy grin that shows him as amused as he feels. He sneaks up on the pup and bumps him in the rear with his cold springtime chilled nose. “What my son means to say is Greetings, wolves of the Mountain Caves. Spirane is welcome here,” He looks down at Mortz with a snorting laughter meant to show his amusement and yet his eyes hold all the pride for his great watchfulness.
“I assume you come to speak of diplomatic things, then?” And he does not know the lies that Spirane has spun about his being prepared to make war - nor would he care to correct or defend himself. They listen to whispers from those who would not know and it would not be his problem that they presumed him some sort of threat, no matter the pack it was against. Angels and Demons... Pah, nonsense. Complete rubbish like the rubbish that made Old Moladion so strange. In Nanrua there had not been much talk of bloodlines or rights. You killed, mated, and ate what you earned. You did not deserve even the breath you breathed until it was won. Why did he care about the woes of other lands unless they affected himself or his people directly? And no matter the atrocity that was the misguided attempt to avenge in her own way - Isola had done nothing to warrant a war, so it would not occur to him how poorly the "whisperers" had done their homework on Glorall in reference of war.
He tilts his head and nods at the three strangers. “I am Weylin, please do come along. I have a boar we killed only yesterday if you would like to eat with me. I have not fed and I think best when I have a full belly. I assure you you will be safe enough in my home.” And he does not wait for them to follow. If they were sure of their purpose and truly wished an audience, they would come. If not, then they were welcome to wait at the border as long as they saw fit. He was a busy wolf and this early rising concept was not in benefiting his need for sleep after late nights conferring and mulling over all he neededto accomplish....
The Pirate King
[ male - five - 39 inches, 130 pounds - selene's soulmate ]
|
 |
