at the root of zachariah’s diplomatic and manipulative nature was an unendingly social instinct. while some in the pack, haziel for example, had adopted deliberate violence as their sword and silence as their shield, zachariah had flourished within meetings of foreigners and within social circles that needed to be played just so. and while he could battle as well as the rest of them, a requirement in the vicious homeland they had come from, it was his brain rather than his brawn that had kept him alive for so long. that was why, when a feminine howl rang out in request of the pack, he rose with an odd amount of joy from his place lounging in the sun. he moved quickly through the trees, nose twitching with interest when the scent of cold summer’s crossed his path. curiosity filled the brujo as he entered the clearing, blue and amber eyes sliding across the large gathering.

his eyes caught on the pair of kalaks, a diluted looking female and a more classic looking male, and he didn’t have to be very close to determine that these were the visitors from cold summers. they lost his attention fairly soon, though he filed their presence away to toy with later. from there, his king and the woman at his side drew his attention. as he settled where he had been standing, a secretive smirk spread across his dark maw - now, what on earth could require a meeting of the pack, where a woman was draped in beautiful flowers and fairly reeked of the king? he was impressed: he had long held doubts that lucifer would ever settle with a woman, but here they were.