The boy of ghostly white was obviously...distraught, the scent of Diveen clinging to his pelt. Andras knew they had a little agreement, a task for him to retrieve information that may be useful. Diveen was obviously quite a grand target, thus he was not too put off by the smell initially. But as seconds ticked away, and the boy's features became more and more...uneasy, the demon's eyes narrowed as he waited for an answer.

It was delivered in a most...interesting fashion. His guts practically shot of out him, but Andras was not one to be disgusted by something that smelled so sickeningly good. Yet the words did not match the sweet smell of vomit that tickled his nares. They did not string nor did they hurt him in the moment. If Istas was stating a fact, then so be it. He was still as Lillith reeled back. He is the pillar of obsidian that stood tall among the weak. Naberius is dead.

It was strange, and yet if it is truth, than it is truth. He cannot change the fact, cannot lift the dead and shove their souls back into corpses. Yet Lillith's reaction launches into the demon's very heart, lighting aflame his charred innards. Diveen killed him? That causes his eyes to narrow, his bloodied hackles to prick even higher towards the sky. It does not surprise him that Diveen would kill one of his sons. Perhaps his perception of the wolves were distorted, changed by word of mouth and the culture in which he was raised. Lillith speaks and Andras remains still, his mind calculating as he considers the situation.

"Did they eat him?" he barked, a sinister touch ringing in his vocals. If he is dead, remaining in their lands then that is simply...unacceptable. If they ate him, that would be equally unacceptable but at least with the first option, there is something they could do about it. His tail flicked in irritation, massive paws falling into the sleuth of vomit before him without a second thought as he inches in closer to Istas, the warm touch of his breath coming towards the white wolf's face.

"They are coming here?" he snarled with disdain, eyes burning as a touch of wild insanity begins to calmly play into mind. Emotion and logic were difficult things to balance, and often time it is his emotion that wins out, and yet there is a haunting calm that is veiled over the blackened brute. The calm before the storm.