His sunset eyes always burned with desire to grow the lands of Iromar to its full potential, yet all the wolves around seemed to be...lazy as of late. No one was working particularly hard, and it was driving the ambitious male to go find talent elsewhere. Sure, tonight he was searching for the weak prey to feed his Lillith, but his eyes were always aware for more. He needed those who not afraid of getting a little scar on their body. He held scars a plenty, places where fur never grew back, and where fur grew back rather funky. He was not a creature for weak eyes or minds. His muscles were tight; a well oiled machine meant for killing. He held strength in every fiber of his being, with a thick layer of skin to go with it. He was naturally thick and rugged, oozing confidence with even the slightest flight of his tail as he lapped the liquid essence of life. Quite honestly, the water of Iromar was...not the most appealing in some areas, and a fresh drink was quite nice.

The flame-kissed obsidian beast allowed his eyes to dash. There were others here, others that were not prey. Movement was easy to catch in the winter land. White was everywhere, and any creature that was dark suffered from being visible to the eye with any type of movement. It seemed another creature blessed with darker colors was out for a drink on this winter twilight night. The sound of blistering cold water was muffled by the snow engulfing the crags. He allowed his eyes to blaze over her as she came to drink as well, a bit of a distance off, but he got a good enough look from where he was. His tongue lapped one more time, before his blocky head lifted in the crisp chilled air. He was not afraid to stare, and he allowed his eyes to absorb the female, letting her rather...wrecked form fall into his memories. A wolf with scars like that can only be two things: a complete pussy who gets beat up, or someone who isn't afraid to get into a fight. His look is not so hot, a bit calm and chilled as his tilts his head only very slightly as he watches her drink. Maybe, he saw a sort of kindred spirit in her as water dripped from the rip on her mouth. His own top lip was ripped, a fang exposed at all times, and his face still held the scars of battles past. The sharp red markings coming from his ears around the inside of his eyes did not make him look any nicer, no. It only intensified his naturally aggressive gaze.

There was a change in the wind, and her scent was brought to him. Naturally, he tastes it and it tingles, stinging his nose. His lips react slightly, lifting as he realizes who this woman was. He knew immediately he had to approach, his curled lips falling back over his fangs. This was Chael's. The flames of his back rose, curling with intensity. He did not like knowing Chael was so...distracted. And this was why.

His movements were deliberate as he engaged the snow before him. There was no fear clinging to his coat or mixing in the air. He somehow doubted she would smell of fear as well. His features became more pronounced the closer he got, his head still lifted high and his stance like that as he should be - a Demon Lord. His darkness pushed the snow away with ease, like a shadow he was eating away the light. He kept a few feet away, but stopped deliberately with his gaze not once leaving her ripped up form. He must admit, a marked up body was pleasing in its own way. Maybe it was because of his masochist nature, enjoying the pain inflicted upon his own body. It was a blessing and a curse, really, and some say such a characteristic will one day be his death. But oh, how he enjoyed inflicting the very same pain on others, even if they did not enjoy it themselves....either way, they always seemed to scream. Not today though, not right now. Instead, he could smell the rot of her flesh now, a scent that brings a flash of grin most dark and pleasurable. Hell, she smelled absolutely amazing. He could bury his muzzle in her rot and breath it in like air. It was not an attraction like he had for Lillith, his Lillith was everything. It was simply a smell that triggered pure bliss, something most found vile and disgusting. But, to the task at hand, despite the distracting smell.

"So, you are the one who is distracting my Chael? No wonder, you smell...amazing," he boomed, ending in a pleasing tone yet still his voice was dark and smooth, like an abyss that never seemed to end. As he stood before her, flecks of snow running across his spine, his mind began to tick some more. Was she also the creature who is rumored to help his very enemy? Well, he supposed he would have to wait and see, find out where she stands in this life. He can smell she is not of pack. A loner, likely directionless and without true purpose. Yet he knew, purpose was simply a state of mind. That was the first step in getting a loner to find the path to hell.

Truly, he did not want Chael to be away from his imprint if this were true and she were his distraction. He cannot even have the lowest members of his pack this...diverted in their attentions. It wasn't exactly for Chael's happiness, but for the well being of the pack to get this creature to come to Iromar, or at least to visit every now and then so he isn't so...annoying. He has a purpose, a job in the pack, and Andras was not going to tolerate him not fulfilling it to his fullest capabilities. Yet he knew, who would really want to be around Chael like that? Really? No one. He understood...that just made it all the more challenging.