What an interesting pair. They didn't match at all. Ah, not entirely at least. Aspis' half-smirk of a snarl was so very Blackthorne, an inky stain on the once-princeling yet she did not hold back despite it. She'd not punish him for lashing out but ah, she hoped for his sake he'd be able to resist. Blackthorne's eyes were so very watchful - dark pools of waiting. Waiting, scheming. Beltane had no doubt even this was not simply for Aspis' curiosity or benefitted. Everything a wolf did beneah the mists of Iromar was in stride with Blackthorne's plans and scheming.
She almost laughed at their reactions to her; one warned and the other recoiled. Two snakes, different kinds. Was she the snake? Snakes were not warm, did not warm up the flanks of others. Snakes warned. Snakes recoiled.
She merely eyed Blackthorne for a moment after he had spoken, a teasing grin inching across her lips; had he tried to flatter her? The boy made no such effort - instead, he showed his teeth and she showed hers in turn, a fascinated grin breaking the black of her lips. His fur was turning black and silver before her eyes - was he Blackthorne's egg? Had he been born with such fire or had their Darkbringer laid a clutch of madness inside him? In her throat, a whisper of a laugh had formed.
Aspis demanded an answer of her. She swayed forward, her tail dragging along Blackthorne's sides before it flicked up and over her back in an excited wave. So then she moved to Aspis' side, cast him an almost sympathetic gaze, before she lowered her face to the spot where the yolk had begun to sink into the marshes; the yolk was orange, a dark spot forming within its core; bloodied, half-formed, a life ended early. She sniffed it, watched it, lapped at it briefly before she paused. She swayed. Her dead ear twitched as a low hum rumbled throughout her.
She rocked back. For a moment, she simply stared into his face with a peculiar look some place between sympathy and caution. She searched his eyes, watched his mouth, breathed in his scent.