he all but bursts into the typical samael the moment andras touches him, as if the world-weary samael was washed away with that single significant contact. brothers, adopted but brothers in all the ways that mattered. more brothers than many blood-siblings could ever boast. they had killed together, for each other, in each other’s name. they had torn into the same prey together, into the same victims together. they had played together as - by the expression on both women’s faces that he catches in passing - no one else played with andras. they are so very much each other’s strength in this moment, the ability of either one to smile seemingly directly correlated to the presence of the other.

and for a moment, a brief one when samael lunges in and a paw rises to hook over sam’s shoulders as andras grasps his ear, there is a third presence among them. for a moment samael can almost feel baphomets vastness of form and presence, enveloping them both as if to welcome them home after a long time gone. three brothers embraced for seconds as they tangled in a wrestling match where the growls which might otherwise have sounded dangerous and savage were mingled with guttural and masculine laughter.

"Samael!" andras exclaims, and samael bolts out from beneath the lord and king, turning tight corners, teasing aithne as she leaves, then circling back to where denali is, the kinder of the two females, as andras tries to make the sorer female play with them all. samael doesn’t think long about the black woman, her ire a clear enough sign to him not to play too close (she was as much a loon as rogue had been back in the days of their demonic prime). instead when denali has her tail nipped at, he launches into the air much like a goat springing and clears his alpha’s back before lapping a long swipe of tongue at denali’s face with a guffaw. "play with us!!!"

it is clear that this is what samael was meant for, at least on the surface. he was kind on the eyes, handsome despite his age, and kinder still amongst family. he was easily made joyous and celebrated even the small victories of life with all the verve of a much younger wolf. he was the sort of person that being around helped lift the spirits and inspire. what was not so surfaced about him was that lifting spirits and inspiration did not extend only to joy. it was his talent to inspire other things too. when that switch was flipped, when his berserker breeding and training woke in him, his savagery and bloodlust lifted it in others for the sheer elation at the adrenaline rush that came with it, inspired in others as many leaders could naturally do to those around them. that person amidst the mob that began the ransacking or helped stem the madness of the greater throng. baphomet’s secret weapon.

here he does it for play, but he was a dangerous creature of the demon’s forging nevertheless.