We need to sow some chaos in this place. It has too long been idle.

Nyteshade’s head tilts at her giggle, curious at the expression. Had he ever giggled? It wasn’t something done in the presence of Blackthorne. His face shifts back into a grin, teeth flashing, as if that would mimic her giggle while his ears flick forward and back, listening to her and the silence behind him. One thing he knew to do was expect a trap. Menkhet was a princess which meant she likely had followers. Could be one was hiding in the dark behind him. Waiting to strike. How fascinating!

”Screams? I can scream for you, little dove, but it might burst your eardrums. Then how would you hear anything?” Little dove – she was the opposite of both of those things. His eyes almost disappear at his large grin and then he cackles, trying to mimic her giggle, though it comes out croaking. She snaps at the air, taunting him, and he rises onto his legs once more with one ear back, one forward, and eyes focused on her. Bright, consuming. ”Turn me inside out, little dove, I yearn to see what I look like.”

She leaps towards him and he allows it, throwing his own weight back so she doesn’t bowl him over without his permission. Teeth graze his neck, grabbing, taunting, and he turns his snout to the bottom of her ear and bites at it. Playfully, almost, as if they were old friends. Weren’t they? She remembered him and he remembered her, that made them friends. Quickly he kicks out with his back legs, twisting to the side, propelling his slender body out from under her by using her belly and ribcage to push off of. Swift as an asp he spins onto his belly, jumping up and shaking his fur out nonchalantly.

”Why do you fly in circles, little dove? Hit your head or broke your wing?” Once more he attempts that giggle and this time, it comes out correct. Echoes through the caverns. Like the bird he calls her, he cocks his head and crosses his legs over one another as he spins in time with her. Listening to her chatter. She rushes in and he darts back, feeling the air where her teeth met inches from his cheek. Giggling, bouncing on his toes, alive with this strange game. ”I seek what you know and what I can get for that knowing. Do you know anything?” Anything could cover a vast array of topics, but Nyteshade wasn’t one to specify. Knowing if the dirt was red in Asteraia was as good as knowing if Blackthorne would rise to power again. One might even intertwine.