I am driven by curiosity. It is what keeps me occupied and it is what keeps me fascinated by a wolf such as Underidge. He has an unusual mind, keen but strange, and I desire to know more about it. It is why I bring him this question and it is why I eagerly listen as he begins, his voice so akin to a deathrattle. I do not even try to suppress my smirk as he mentions my brother, a wolf that my own sister denies to call such a thing and yet, he mentions the prior king too. It makes my hackles bristle, my tongue suddenly wet with salivation as I recall that night. He had tasted weak. He had tasted sad and alone, abandoned and unforgiven. I remember it well. I wonder, then, if that is what Abel will taste like.

"Where you cannot reach?" I respond simply, my voice smooth as I consider his words, "Perhaps I can reach them for you." It is an offer - an exchange, if you would - if he seeks out any in particular. After all, there is power in a title and in a name. I ought to use such power some day, I suppose. Perhaps Underidge will give me a reason to do so.

He steps forward then. It is an unusual movement for him and instantly, I feel my eyes narrow onto his own. His energy is different now, peculiar for a wolf such as himself. But it is then that he questions me and I can almost taste the vehemence of his words in the breath that passes through his teeth. I am tempted to snap at him, to rake my teeth along his muzzle and remind him of his place and yet, it is a valid question. I must ensure I never fall to the weakness that is blood dependence. He is keeping me in check. He ought to. It is part of his role.

I step forward too, closing the space further as my eyes fixate on his own, unwaveringly. It is simple: "blood is simply blood." My head slowly tilts as I consider him before I speak again, my voice quieter now that a secret is passed between us. "My brother has failed to grow, to become anything more than fodder," I begin with an agitated flick of my tail - I had expected that I might have been able to purge his weakness and yet, it has only latched onto him more and more with each day. "I desire to purge him of this burden." I watch him closely now, curious as to how he will take this implication: I will not kill Abel, not now. I wish to test him further. I wish to taste his weakness, to truly gauge it, and if he cannot outgrow it even with its source separated, then he ought to be culled. Is it wrong? Is it wrong to want to play with your food? To truly test the core of another?

His next words, perhaps, are more startling. I feel myself taken aback by them, a brow raising instantly as his voice oozes with bitterness. I cannot help but smirk again, my head slowly tilting onto its opposite axis. "His soul?" I inquire, yet I do not stop, instead I move forward with the same excited energy of his prior question. "Do not tell me... that you wish to seek some vengeance unto Diveen?" Surely he would not wish to force them to atone for purging. Is this not what he desires in the world? For his father to be killed so easily, he must have been weak.