Nyteshade had made few interactions over his lifetime. Such was the solitary life of the kin of Blackthorne, a father who was disappointed and adamant in the son that he had created. The fire was there in him. The very same fire that burned in his father’s charcoal eyes when his dismay and fury were piqued. Only, it took a little longer to stoke that fire, but when it burst, oh was it a magnificent thing.

It didn’t make him good. By his very blood he was considered a cursed creature. The blood of Eve and Blackthorne was chock full of disaster and vibrancy. He was just, simply put, different.

The female does not shy away from his sudden appearance. Why should she, he thinks, for she is in a pack land and clearly she was signaling for some sort of pack wolf. Did she think he was one? Interesting. Despite his stealthy lazing at the border’s edge, the obsidian and gray marked male did not smell like the plains. His fur held the scent of rot, wildflowers, and ice. A strange mixture to be sure.

Posturing was a game that he played with his father. Blackthorne was once an alpha. Even with no title he held the current status quo on dominance and when Nyte was being particularly explosive in his attitude, for his moods were just as mercurial as his bloodline’s, he would take a dominant stance that ultimately led to frothing mouths, spotted fur, and the tang of blood in the air. In response to her neutral positioning his tail rose, stiff, a flag that decried a sort of dominance that was uncertain. Probing to see her reaction if only because he wondered – how did other wolves react to this? To a nobody who might pretend to be somebody?

A frown coils down his lips, making his already fierce expression seem more pointed, what with the fur over his eyes and hanging from the chin. “Always?” He states the words as if he cannot believe them. How could someone ALWAYS be something? “Mostly nothing,” he murmurs to the air, half speaking to her, half to himself, about himself. He was mostly nothing. But this girl said always something so maybe… maybe he could be some of something.

Suddenly his gazes sharpens on hers, coming back to this moment. Abruptly he jolts forward, closing the short gap between them without care for his disjointed but oddly graceful gait, intending to shove his nose close to hers. She didn’t smell like something. Something smelled…. Important. She smelled normal. “No, you can’t be always something. You smell mostly like nothing. Like me.” The words are quick. Striking, vicious almost, as he recoils and glares at her as if she is lying to him. “Who are you, somebody?”