He know the subtle trails of Iromar around his border like no other. He moves with them in a way most powerful, with muscles ripped pulling him through the thick brush with much force. He was not a male to tinker and toy with, his temper is short and his joy for pain leaves him littered with scars. Yet he seemed to have toned down over the years, the edge on his fangs taking a bit of a hit as he takes on the responsibility of diplomacy. Perhaps things were more simple when he was but an Archduke, able to act purely on instinct if he so chose, yet he knew in many cases not to react with flesh and fang immediately these days.

Yet today his wild instinct roamed deeply within his wide barreling chest. He was on the prowl this day, moving with conviction as he came to mark a tree along his borders. This was his land this day, and he was going to tolerate no bull shit today. His wild sunset eyes drift across the summer grasses, seeing the wet swamps all around and inhaling the scents of his world within. Yet he is distracted on this day, a figure of white blazes through the fog, and perhaps curiosity or the urge to chase filled the male of red and black, for his head lowered in hiding before he took the silent route in the same direction as he, Istas, the white boy of Ruvindra and Paldor. Strange ones, their children...strange indeed, and he wondered what this boy was up to.

He took a rounded way towards where Istas went, choosing a path more covered by foliage to cover his dark form. Fog was a gift on this day indeed, causing him to be less noticeable as he comes to see where the boy finally stop, his own form pausing as his lungs fill with breath.

A figure is at the border, and perhaps Andras had found some sort of hidden scouting talent in the ghostly white boy. Andras sticks to one of the tree lines, edging around as he spies upon them. He was urged to get close, to investigate who dare come close to his lands, and yet he wished to know what the white boy would do.

And for whatever reason the boy just...stood there, staring, but hell, he was weird. However, Andras was just in earshot to ear the language of Latina flow off the girl's mouth, and quite honestly, he hardly even realized it was a girl until then. Her features were most...ambiguous, yet she did hold herself well. It only made him want to throw her to the ground more, to investigate who she is and why she comes here speaking that tongue.

His motions were quick. He came from the right side of Ayal, large paws smashing the earth beneath him as he came her way with a mixture of speed and style, his own style much more wild and authoritative. She had wanted to know who the leader was? Well, she was about to damn well find out.

His lips of black split to show his fangs, ears erected forward in a show of total dominance. Snakes of red dances down from his ears and around the inside of his eyes, shriveling and shrieking as he came like a raging, kicking bull towards her. The boy was completely forgotten in this moment, merely a resident watching as a sole audience member. His iron form did not stop until he was only inches from her, the stop sudden and skillfully executed. His eyes never ceased to burn into her, the scent of Diveen making their own burn into his mind. She looked of no Angel though, but it did not stop a flare of rage from rippling through his throat. His muzzle comes within an inch of her own, snarling as he seeks to test her will and worthiness of living. If she dare make the wrong move...if she dare he would rip her a new muzzle to rival his own cracked smile.

"Pedicabo eum" (Fuck off)" he rumbled, tail held high and slicing the air behind him as his muzzle toys closely to hers. His own masculine musk filled the air, a rush of his own aggression fueling him as he assess the Latin speaking new comer. She is young, but in his mind, no age was too young to kill.