My son has been...active this past winter. It appears that hormones finally got to him, and the desire to spread greatness finally took hold. I suppose it was an inevitable thing. Yet, I still think there is not a girl worthy of him in this forsaken world. I suppose there was only so much to be done about the situation. I am my genetics will reign supreme over whatever fem he chooses. They will simply be vessels for my greatness and the greatness of my son, nothing more.
It is not like I have not been watching from the shadows. I have witness so much to unknowing creatures. I am like smoke, not really noticed as I watch carefully, assessing every situation and learning of every detail. I know of my Eden's children, my own line extending. I have watched them as they grew enough to exit the den. I, perhaps, watch over them, however that does not mean that I will exactly come to their aid. Let the strong survive, and let the weak die...and there will be no weakness related to me. I will cull any weakened pups from my line with my own jaws if I have to, and weakness is not just a physical trait. It is a mental one too. Today, I will test a bit of that mentality...on the boy who lingers with his kill outside the den.
Glorall is a very different place to Diveen, but I have lived here long enough to know and understand it. My limbs of grey carry forth my form still silken and strong, my darkened form like a grand goddess as I make my strides towards him. I had watched him and his fascination with the death at his paws. The blood that is life that he drained. I remember my youth and the destruction of lesser things. It is...thrilling, and always will be. I am given pleasure that my very own blood runs through his veins, already he is promising in my copper orange eyes.
I hold no smile as I approach. I do hum a tune, as I usually do, my voice intoxicating as my grey paws land on the ground, stopping feet before him and given to stare almost harshly at him. I observe the situation more closely, a silence hardened between us. I do not speak until I wish it, until he knows who reigns supreme. I stand tall as I look down upon him as his kill, allowing many moments of only the sound of sea and the silencing of my own hum. There is a part of me that, perhaps, wished to smile at him in the little pleasure of his own kill, but no such thing appears upon my dark lips.
"Inferre mortem est excellentia vestra," (To bring death, is to bring your superiority.) I say with my strong yet feminine tones, my own form built like a warrior with strength. I do not look of any weakness, and my voice is a mixture of that strength as well as the natural beauty that graces my wolven form.
"Does os fregisset in maxillis tuis, adducite iucundum?" (Does bone cracking in your jaws, bring you pleasure?) I question, taking my steps forward until I am almost right upon him and his kill, my copper eyes dotted with lapis staring directly at him, eye to eye, assessing any, or any lack of, discomfort the boy might have. I do demand respect, but I also do not allow my own blood to stick their tails between their legs. It is...a delicate balance, and I will teach him if I must.