“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”

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He knew that he would find her; he would not have stopped until he did. Her presence does not bring him joy or any sense of euphoria as it may to some. Instead, a cool wave of empty calm breaks over him. His mind does not fight itself any longer, his rage is quelled, and his hunger buried deep until another time. This feeling is foreign to him, almost unnerving, but it is something that interests him to no end.

He is a beast of simplicity and does not have a grasp on the nuances of languages or the way that others communicate. His father rarely spoke and his mother only did so when lessons needed to be taught or stories imperative to their history be communicated. Zagan knows his name but rarely claims it; those closest to he and his family were the only ones to know it. He lives by instinct and when that monstrous instinct is gone what is left of him? His primordial mind seeks for something else to grasp onto, for an answer to why and what he should do next. Zawyne is a new twist in his mentality.

His jeweled eyes fall upon her colorful figure before she even realizes that he is near and he approaches with practiced silence. He doesn’t intend on scaring her or even ambushing her, but he just wants to watch for a few moments longer before he interrupts. She appeared… upset for some reason, the tension rolling off of her in small waves as she kicked over a small rock. Her voice shrieked out in fear as she backpedaled away from the rock. His ears pinned down at the sound until she toppled back into his broad chest, budging him only slightly before she stood upright and turned to see him. This instance, he was not prepared for; the yelling, her stumbling backwards, or their bodies touching even for the shortest moment. His expression was that of slight bewilderment if only for a split second before his usual stoicness returned.

The brightly hued girl backed away from him as she realized just who she barreled into and without a thought he took a step toward her. His amethyst eyes were glued to her as she shook herself off and composed herself once more, her head then tilting in curiosity at the sight of him. For a small moment they stood there just looking at each other until she became the first to speak - as expected.

Everything that he had felt in the cavern at the mountain had come back again and when she had touched him, it was as if there was a fire kissing his skin. Not in a terrible way in which one would get burned, but in a way that spread warmth and amity. The darker part of him fought against this feeling but he quieted it as she continued to speak. He understood what she was saying and what her questions were but… he was keen on responding. For the entirety of his young life his family thought he was mute, he would respond only in growls and physical expression, but he broke that silence the day his mother was murdered. Still, he was not one of many words or one to give detailed information, if any at all.

”Are you feeling alright?” He looked down at himself as if it were a trick question. Did he not look as if he had been doing well since their last meeting? He chose not to answer and thus the awkward tension between them became ever more present. ”Is there… something I can help you with? Do you not have a pack to go home to?” She acted as if she did not want him around - as if he did not belong here. He was miffed that she would even suggest for him to leave after he had spent all of this time looking for her. Did she even realize what she does to him?

His husky voice came out in a gruff manner as the distant howling of others echoed faintly in the background. ”Do you not want me here?” His beautifully bright eyes betrayed the darkness within him as he stared into her own, waiting for an answer.