She stalked him. Partially because he smelled like Viora and partially because she could not take her eyes off him. Is this how Cersei felt about Sinclair? Maradona felt...stupid and she hated it. Thus she resolved to end this girlish crush on a wolf she did not know. She would either find him brutish and unworthy of her time or she would deal with the emotion the way that would best keep her from being dependent on any individual. She would bury it. Deny it. And focus on the task at hand. Survival. Furthering of the pack. Security in her home. These were the things that Maradona craved and desired far beyond anything else. These were things she was willing to dedicate her life.

Maradona stalked him through the Crags, and into the Riverside, making sure to keep him in her sights and yet keeping her scent from the nose that she was stalking. Her navy blue eyes keep trained on Magnus. She wanted to know about the boy that put her sister in her place. That was seemingly captivated by the rough and tumble Viora. She can smell the salt air be replaced by the moorish of Iromar. Iromar...the land her parents were supposed to rule in a time long before she arrived. The land of Demons. She was curious about such a place but as a general rule, it was understood that the land of alligators and swamp was off limits to the children of Caligula and Tesseract. At least....not without supervision. Those dark eyes watched as he hunted, as each muscle contracted and relaxed in perfect unison. It was only the death cry of the rabbit that told her he was successful. She contented herself it watching from afar. She had no desire to steal the kill of the object of her creeping at this point in time. He moves back towards Glorall? She tilts her head in curiosity.

It was only when the daughter of Diveen approaches that Maradona closes the distance. She did not appreciate her newest curiosity to be so rudely approached. Did she not see that he was claimed by Glorall? She approaches with the subtle grace that proclaims her to be dominant. She had a dancer's body, with stronger shoulders that spoke she could take a hit as well as give it. If one was not paying attention, she almost looked like a Demon but of course her pelt smelled of sea salt and fish. Besides, the sprinkling of silver in the red of her spine spoke that she was not Demonic and instead a Princess of Glorall. Her ears pricked as she approached, catching the last little bit. A small smile upon her features and a relaxed stance offered told them both she meant no harm. She spoke easily, her voice warm enough and polite. "Hello Shiloh. I am Maradona of Glorall. I see you have met our newest recruit." She glanced towards Magnus, wondering if he would play along or declare himself the loner he had only recently abandoned.

My tongue
will taste of gin and malicious intent