He knows she comes, always he knows, one darkened ear turned backwards at her silent approach as the one of Red and White wanders from the darkened abyss to come from behind and find place at his side. Her muzzle is raised, tasting of the air, seeking the scraps of his meal though indeed he carries none for her this night, sees ill fit to indulge her, though his own darkened muzzle turns to sniff at her own form, to inhale the scents upon her in search of any fragmented meal that she may have brought him in turn, her own jaws equally as empty and earning the female little more then a snort of derision. He is calm this night, her company permitted as he turns from her, holding no further interest, allowing her to keep her place beside him for she alone is given to speak his language, given to understand each subtle touch and turn that others of vile weakness disregard to spit and snarl garbled words that hurt his ears with their harsh brutality and see fit only to drive him into hardened rages of discord. Another huff of sorts is released as his paws continue forward, leading his mate now, heading for the far reaches of Iromar, content merely to pass through and reach the cavernous expanse of the field to retreat to the blackness of his den. He will permit her, this day, to rest beside him should she desire it, the lingering chill of winter driving the instinct within himself to be closer to the one of red and white, though indeed he has missed his chance this winter, her body not holding the odour he seeks and as such has lost interest in the female entirely as darkened limbs allow the blackened prince to pass silently once more, the female of snow and blood close beside as the silence of their advance is continued.

It is only when the sent of another infects the wind that the darkened hellion is given to pause, claws falling silent upon the trodden path to turn deadened emerald eyes back upon the one whom follows, a female, one given to trail from a distance for indeed perhaps it is that instinct alone warns her away from the savage pair, darkness itself and the wolf of white and blood. For some moments those deadened eyes rest upon the Iromar female whom lingers, her scent bringing forth her own perfume to his nostrils and yet…she reeks of health, her form untouched by the taste of illness of disease. She is not a meal not one he will be bothered with this night, her stomach already filled with flesh and blood, should brushing against she of Red and White as he turns once more from the Iromar female. He cares not for her, she is a meal whom will be given to fight and the hunger within himself does not bay for so very much blood this night. Yet it would seem the other carries a foolish mind, darkened ears drawn forward at the release of a howl that shatters the night and darkness in which the Black Prince has draped himself, black lips lifted like fleshy curtain from the knives within as a feral snarl is spat forth in disgust. He dislikes noise, dislikes her call to summon others and indeed it would seem now his interest is piqued, form stiffening as he moves now, turns towards her once more and begins to stride towards the unfortunate Iromar female.

He does not walk as any other, for non may command his submission, towering form held tall, each hardened muscle given to ripple beneath the ebony thickness of his obsidian cape as he comes with eyes of violent intent, head high and position affirmed as his tail lifts in a show of dominance, a command of obedience and indeed, should Nakki comply, perhaps it is she will be spared this night. He does not desire a meal, he merely seeks to satisfy his curiosity in this, seeks to silence her, force her submission and continue back into the darkness as his motion becomes stiff-legged and domineering and indeed he is a sight to behold, crafted of the upmost perfection, the product of Alpha upon Alpha within his blood, the epitome of male form, the darkest angel and the truest demon, for none my equal his perfection, crafted by feat to be as such yet indeed with a mind ravaged so. He understands only instinct, acts upon each demand and indeed as he comes forth his neck is given to arch in a manner near-stallion like, lip peeled back from bloodied fangs as he moves to stand over her, to allow her to feel his darkened embrace and the power that leaks from his form, knowing well that Flare lingers, that she too will bare fang if she senses a meal and indeed should Nakki act foolishly she will become little more than blood and bone this night. She may call for her Alpha all she desires, tonight she looks upon the true Demon King and his mate of snow and fire. He seeks to stand over her, seeks to force her submission else push her further and further back with each powerful stride. Should she comply…..perhaps she will live.

Yet this delicate balance, this momentary meeting between the Prince of Darkness and the Iromar female is cut short by the approach of a foolish child, a weakened yearling, incapable of battle, incapable of defending himself and yet one that carries the arrogance to bare teeth before Tobias and Flare this night, one him moves in a manner of aggression and sees those reptilian eyes slice like emerald knives upon his youthful form as he seeks to come to the side of the other. He is weak, small, the flesh of the young is tender. He acts as one of authority and indeed this does little but grate against the mind of the deranged oblivion as another sound rises within his throat, a darkened curl, a peeling growl that rolls and simmers, a low call to she of Red and White- a hunting call, seeking to stoke the flames within his Flare, calling her now to his side to fall upon the yearling as heckles lift like darkened knives in the darkness. Yet it is not to She of Red and White he calls alone, the rumble within his chest a call to Nakki, too She of Dark and Shadow, a siren song that rumbles with sickening ease, a purr of bloodied delight sought to entice her to hunt with him, to join him and She of Red and White, to feed tonight upon the yearling boy. Perhaps she will heed his call, slid into his shadow and drive back the Yearling, open his insides and feed upon him for he has dared to act as a creature of dominance before Tobias and his ravaged mind coiled against this- or perhaps she will seek to defend the child, to waste her energy on weakness, on a pup not her own. It matters not. His attention has been caught and he does not hunt alone this night. She of Red and White lingers to scorch and burn in the wake of his destruction.

He brushes past She of Dark and Shadow, a growl within his throat and a snarl upon his lips as saliva pools in anticipation, pressing now towards the yearling…..run, Naberius.