He is not outside the cave waiting for her, rather he is within the intericate network of caves that runs through the mountains, darker and darker it is the further and further you get. Till at long last there is absolutely nothing to be seen. One couldn't even see their own paw in front of them unless they happened upon a natural air vent. He is resting in the darkness, waiting for someone to fall into his trap. He is looking for fun, for excitement. So far, this place has proven to hold none for him. But soon, soon he would call others to him, others that were like him.
Others who didn't like to be held down by a pack of degenerates, others who wished to live by the old ways. To fight and scrap for every little morsel they could get their paws on, the weakest would die and the stronger would raise up. Just as it should be. None of this weak ruling the strong bull shit. Samil had watched these packs, watched the demons in all their glory fall into a rabid pile of nothingness. Watched as the Witch of the Mountains fell to that of Purge. A female he himself wouldn't mind getting to know a bit better.
To the so called Angel pack, with their queen on high, just thinking about the two packs, angels vrs demons, made Samil want to wretch really. They were all show, feathers and lace, nothing special to them really. There was no power here. Only naturalism. This... this displeased him, and yet he was still here. Still skulking the darkness for his next meal. Or the equivilent of one at any rate. Soon the Fallen would rise again, soon they would take them all by storm and not a single one of them would see it coming. Oh, what a sweet song he would sing from the tops of the mountains to the bottom of the rivers.
It is her scent, her scent and the sound of her nails on rock that brings him back to the here and now, while thoughts of Glorall and Tavoria hung in the air like black flies and vultures. He turns his head, his seated back side getting up and moving in the direction the wind comes from, it cloaks his nostrils and he can barely contain himself at the prospect of a new recruit.
She is of the purest white. Even whiter than the angels of Diveen, his green eyes watch her as she lowers her body to the earth, she was so much smaller than he, so much weaker. And yet, he could care less. Everyone had their place within a group, some were brutes like him who used their pure strength to push others around. Others, like this female... tiny and lithe, able to bend and get around to those tender spots of a wolf. She is facing away from him, her rear to him, he can not see the weakness in her eye. But if he could, seeing the scar too, he'd not hold it against her.
"Welcome to my humble abode," he states simply, his tune a deep rumble from his chest, baritones and sultry sounds are all the rage these days. His green eyes remained trained on her, this portion of the cave system, he had claimed for himself. Where he and Naamah slept was at a totally different end of the set up. "The names Samil, and who might you be?" some times he sounds just to darn creepy for his own good.
"talks like this"