do not go gentle into that good night

Growth has occurred to the Darkbringer. Oh, he is still filled with the insidious need for violence and the anger always boils below his skin, but he has warped it. Controlled it. The madness there is fleeting and tucked away for better days. Now was not the time to go into a tizzy with the alpha of Glorall, though the idea makes his flanks twitch with an urge to do so. It had been so much.... fun the last time. The first thing he spies is the smirk on Eden's maw, his own coiling up in response though the look he gives him is festering with dislike for a moment. It was a sort of mutual understanding.

Does he think it odd that Thorne arrives alone, without an entourage? The Darkbringer may have taken Iromar through bloodless means but that did not mean he could not protect himself. Beneath his silken fur there hides countless scars from his youth. Scars from battles of dominance. He has tasted the blood of his members and now they are bound to him. Death. "Ah," Thorne replies in dramatic tones, a vain grin upon his muzzle, his eyes twinkling with vicious mirth. Rejection. The words sour in his mind, memories of Azariah rejecting his dominance, and he tilts his head with a hmm of thoughtfulness. "Is it rejection if one is forced from the other by outside means? No, I don't think so. It doesn't quite work the same does it? Well, if you ever have such a need for me to fix that problem, Fortitude, you need but ask. A favor in return is all I ask for my services." A wicked smile, full of sharp teeth and cunning. Did he mean Kamala or did he mean Underidge? Let Eden decide.

"It was magnificent." The words are said on a purr of midnight. His auds twitch back, a look of extreme satisfaction on his face. "But," and now his face snaps into it's usual shape - sharp, full of promise. "I've come to call in my bargain from you. Tit for tat and all that." He stands now, stretching low into a bow, claws digging into soil that he used to tread upon, eyes twisted upward towards Eden with that infernal look of a cat-with-a-mouse. "There is a boy here who has a crazy mother. The boy's name is Obsidian. I want him." The words are simple and straightens to a stand, head erect in a focused expression. Would Eden honor his word?