You'll never know the psychopath sitting next to you; You'll never know the murderer sitting next to you. You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?" But after all I've said, Please don't forget - All my friends are heathens, Take it slow. Wait for them to ask you who you know. Please don't make any sudden moves. You don't know the half of the abuse.
The plains had grown quiet, to a certain degree. Ripper felt it was not the quiet of death or idleness, but simply that of contentedness. He had been observing the wolves of the pack, each from a distance and at his leisure. The splattering of blood that belonged to the pale auburn female had been of most interest, a trail which he had followed until he noticed another scent had joined it. Another female, another wolf whose name he'd not yet learned. Scents were more important to him than names, and yet again more important than titles. He shook his head idly as he walked across the rolling landscape of Asteraia, thinking back on his conversation with the woman known as a silverknife. Titles. He'd gained his own - Seshat - and yet the recognition meant little to him. Ripper concerned himself only with aiding his sister in achieving her goals. If she wished to bestow a title upon him, so be it.
Then of course there was the steady influx of new scents that seemed to accompany Cuirass' scent each time he crossed the borders. Despite knowing little of the male, Ripper had a growing appreciation for the work he did. Sekhmet requested more wolves, and he delivered. It was enough for Ripper to approve of the male, and the strength he lent to the pack. Hopefully others would rise to the challenge as well, following their pack mate's good example.
With the sunset at his back, Ripper following a scent trail that was more familiar to him than any of the others that had taken over the plains. A scent he had known since birth, perhaps even before, and to which his loyalties laid. It did not take him long to find his sister, and he approached at his ever leisurely pace. His shoulder blades rolled in an almost cat-like fashion, though there was nothing feline about his build. Perhaps like a lion, if anything. His scarred ears flicked as he came up alongside Sekhmet, following her gaze out towards the horizon for a moment before turning his hazel eyes upon her. "What next, sister?" She had succeeded in all that she had set out to do - but somehow he had a feeling she was barely getting started.
ripper
5yo, 38", 210#, ♥, ∞, ≈, ✘, ⚖