samael was….a case.

a case of luck - an archangel abducted by demons. berserkers were not packs that were kind to their children, after all. so when the first pack of demons made war and slaughtered them -- he was doomed a second time because of the color of his coat. and on both counts, baphomet had saved him by finishing what the first pack started with those angels who still were biased and would have fought their impromptu saviors anyway and by killing the demons who would have killed the innocent mothers and pups. it was an intervention that spirited him away from a life of lonely madness at the call of those who would not have thought of him as a living wolf at all. he was, after all, an archangel of their order and meant to lead battles over any obligation to the world or instincts otherwise.

a case of irony - a angel who was a demon but a demon who defied the principles that his own people dictated to the masses about demons. to this day he has not done a single wrong in the blatant conceptualization of what ‘wrong’ is. always, the ill he has done has been for the aid or good of another. and never has it been done to a mother or pups. even his abduction was an act of mercy - believing her to be endangering her children by traveling to the freelands while so heavily with pups. always he strives to better the name of the wolves who saved him from the machinations of his former elders.

and, well, a basket case. i mean look at him, standing there without a care in the world save to impress his brother and to extend a hand of friendship to a king-- and maybe buddy up to secure his lands more fully. the southern coast of the moladion peninsula was basically theirs alone… why not, right? he is all but tail wagging, howling in that infectiously friendly voice, a lopsided grin planted on his face as tesseract strolls up with a look not unlike a porcupine newly fallen from a tree.

his tail wagging stops for a moment, at least showing he has some minute sensibility, before it begins again and he watches the king take a kingly stance.

"You seem all too familiar. Do tell me, you have not come to deliver me some message from Jumanji, have you?" says the king, and with the disarming demeanor he had had since he could remember - the one that disarmed even the King of Demons - he playbows with a little waggle of his hips in the air. "i did not know glorall had taken to naming the rats that try to burrow into their dens.." he says with a gleeful dismissal of what might likely be one of iromar’s own wolves soon. "what does the king of glorall, clearly victorious in his return to his throne from battle, have to fear from the squeakings of a rat besides?"

yes, disarming. disarming because he is clearly not buttering the king before him up - only praising what iromar prized in those connected to them… strength. "i have come because my brother and kings lunatic sister, with all due love and respect mind you, is here and we are neighbors who should be kinder and closer than we are." that lolling tongue laps over his nose and he stands up, careful not to cross the scent depicted battle lines when he tries to reach out a nose in greeting. "i am Samael. i remember you when my brother, well, the other brother… the giant one with the itchy voice… came to take the throne. it is good to see a son of iromar becoming a king in his own right!" cheerful and honest, like his coat - confusing that he so loved his demons all the same.