Like pustules, they festered. The world was crumbling down around the noble wolves of Molodian and they were falling like flies. Down, down, down the rabbit hole they went, and Blackthorne watched from a distance with a smirk on his face. What good had they ever truly done in this land? Death happened and they couldn't stop it. The leftovers, the cast outs, they came here where he gave them PURPOSE. MEANING. Who wanted to protect and defend the weak? In a way, Underidge had taught him a few things, but his father was incorrect in assuming the weak could not be cured of their problem. It was kill or be killed, especially if one lived in Asteraia. He found it entertaining, really, how the world was so concerned about the lives of three measly pups. So much so that they turned a blind eye to the killer in the north, thinking him the lesser of two evils. What would the Nameless One do with her power? Would it choke her, as it did others? Would she turn to alliances and sweet talking, to the weakness of peace?

He had lounged a good portion of this cool summer's day near the marshy water to the direct west of the boneyard. There was an aged stone that stuck up and out over a conclave space of dirt held up by the aged roots of a cypress tree, it's dry tendrils hanging down to offer a spot of shade. Alligators lazed on the shoreline before him, reptilian eyes closing as they dozed in the sun, uncaring of the Darkbringer in their midst. What fascinating creatures. The only sign he hears her call for a moment is the twitch of one ear, his charcoal eyes fastened upon the magnificent creatures. They called one Queen the Dragon Slayer - was it so difficult to kill one of these? Soon he would find out.

With a deep chuffing sigh he pushed up, large figure sleek in his power. Becoming a leader did not mean that he spent all his time lounging. This was one of those moments when he considered and mulled over options, decisions, motivations. The call was unknown to him but undoubtedly some foreigner come to call with good intentions. An indolent smirk is given in the direction of the call but he makes her wait, turning instead towards the area where the pups had last been spotted. It doesn't take him long to collect Aspis; he had begun to show favor to the boy, currying him with gifts, motivations, and punishments when he did not listen. The furious look had become a permanent stamp on the boy's face and had begun to turn into a stoic sort of glare at the world around him.

Aspis was growing fast, his body half as large as Blackthorne's already, but he was not yet any competition. Not that he hadn't brawled with the Darkbringer at least once before, the wicked male inspiring a fury that was unmatched in the boy. Still, he had begun to learn things, to understand a bit of what made Blackthorne tick. And he had begun to SEE. It was confusing because while he hated the male, he could see the loyalty. Could actually see why these wolves would follow him. Blackthorne was suave and could charm when he wanted to but he did not brook disobedience. He was, in short, nothing like Aspis' own parents. And so far, the Darkbringer had kept a pack. What did that say about his lineage? It was confusing.

When they finally happen upon Zelda, a significant amount of time has passed. The Darkbringer moves with a sleek gait, giving her a slow perusal, interest sparking in his eyes before they drag across the thick figure near her. "Forest wolves come to call again," he says with a put-upon sigh, glancing at the stoic figure near his hip. Aspis watches them warily, red-rimmed emerald eyes glancing suspiciously between them but inside wondering if they knew his parents. If they could tell him how they were. His lips twitch with the need to ask but he refrains, glancing instead at Blackthorne and catching those viper eyes peering at him for a moment.

Blackthorne turns his attention back to Zelda, one fang peeking from his silver lips as he smiles charmingly. "I can say honestly, you are much lovelier than the last lady received here from your home." But not the first. No, the first one was lovely too, but she was a secret he would keep. No need to clip those assassins wings. "Why have you come?" As quick as a whip, his suave voice turns sharp, demanding, violent, head rising and silver cowlick with it, giving him an ominous air.