Vain waited, not on baited breath... but close enough, he wasn't about to go trapsing around the Iromar swamps in search of their fearless leader. To much mud, to much space. He wouldn't have found him till morning and then he'd be to tired and he'd probably just head back to his little den and hide out until the night and have to do it all over again. He didn't expect Andras to come to his call, but the idea of it was to get the other to send out a return call and then he'd atleast have a smaller area to look for him in. Luckily, he was near his 'throne room' and this made things much easier to get done and over with.

He slowly picked his way towards the blood covered area of Iromar, it truely lived up to the demon wa of life, everything every where and not a scrap of clean land to set his white paws down on. His face distorted in disgust but he flicked it away with his ear as he took on a look similar to his father. Unlike Paldor though, Vainglory was at the peak of physical condition, his muscles filled out his body perfectly. Though he was still a lean creature, it was all there to be seen. Under a plush, perfectly groomed, not a fleck of dirt upon a single hair, fur. Fur that looked like it was made of silk, fur that shined like a glowing beakon of light in the darkness of the swamp kings abode.

He spots the black and red beast, his own pale lavender and white eyes catching the other wolf seated amidst the bone pile, he moves to a certain distance and seats himself opposite of his leader. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly as a look of pure boredome spread across his face. "Evening Andras," he knows the demons are a fickle bunch, waiting upon ancient cues to begin their speech. The little bundles of fuzz he remembers as a child would wait and wait until you spoke, and then they'd send their useless blather out into the open. His vision blurs for a moment, like tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. When it focus's he is not in front of Andras, but the forms of two wolves.

One is dripping with that of the swamp, black as night and red as the flames that stroke the back of Andras. The black and red male is young, a season or two, but on the verge of being older yet. The other is a female of browns, grays and tans. Like a normal wolf. They are one in themselves and then the two begin to blend. Meld together as if they will create one creature. He see's no markers of a home on the female and yet, something does not seem to be right. His vision blurs once more and then he leans heavily forwards, his head lowered and hung almost between with his nose touching the ground. While he'd dreamed his body had gone ridged. As if something had bitten his hind end but he was unable to move past the sudden intake of breath. After he'd caught his breath he looked up to Andras. "Your son...." he has to lick his lips and gather saliva to make his mouth not so dry, "he has imprinted." His pale eyes with their pupil-less stare watch Andras for a moment, "and she ain't a demon" he said with a slight hint of a smile. Wonder what the swamp king would do about this.

Arctic Wolf | Male | Three | 39in/120lbs | Auspex-in-Training | Paldor x Ruvindra | Iromar