By the time Sephiran had awoken from his sleep, dawn had already transitioned into the late morning hours. He had taken refuge beneath an outcropping of boulders, which shielded him from the wind during the night. For much of the morning, it had kept him out of the sunlight too. But now that the sun had risen higher and shifted towards the east, he became exposed to its rays. Given it was early spring, the warmth felt nice. His dark pelt soaked it up, and for a while, he basked in it before he grew bored of laying around. With a loud huff, the Saxe boy rose to his feet before shaking off the dirt that had collected on his pelt. With a long stretch, he bid his temporary bed farewell and headed out into the plains. He was alone for several hours, which wasn’t all too surprising. He had used that time to practice his stalking skills, as this new place was abundant with prey. He had just chased down and eaten a small hare and was tracking down another target, when something far more interesting caught his attention. The scent of a female wolf drifted in the breeze, emanating from somewhere nearby. His muzzle lifted to the sky, nostrils quivering as he drank the scent in, rolling it across his pallet to collect any information he could. There wasn’t the metallic, pheromone-infused scent of heat, which was disappointing. But there was a female nearby, nonetheless. Which was something worth sticking around for, seeing that he had been so deprived. ”Speech”

Rhian was not the sort to stay in one place for long, she decided. Not now, at least, when any home she made had no one to share it with but the worms and no ability to protect whatever territory she claimed as hers. Under the warm sun of late morning, she got up from the shallow scrape she'd made herself in a sandy land nearby -- not in any way a permanent abode, but it served well enough to keep out the wind. Spring was coming. She definitely appreciated the warmer weather, but it took a day or two before she realized that it was her birthday season, too. She would be two years old. A full adult, though in her eyes she'd been that for nearly a year anyway, and she still had not achieved what she sought so persistently. She let the disappointment sit heavily across her shoulders -- it would push her forward, teach her not to continue to fail. Her future pack needed her to bring them together. She stretched, and set off, moving towards the prairie. It took a few hours for her to finally step foot on level grass and not sand, but she was glad enough to find it that she didn't mind the time it took. What else was she to do, anyway? A faint whiff of another wolf drifted towards her on the breeze and she perked up, increasing her pace and turning to go in his direction. When she saw him, she would slow, and when she was even closer she would stop and greet him. "Hello! My name's Rhian." She did not introduce herself with her family name -- she never did, since she didn't really think of most of them as her family. Her siblings, sure, though she did not know where any of them were. But she had left her father behind both physically and emotionally. "Speak"

He wasn’t one to let an opportunity to have a little fun go to waste. So when he caught wind of the female nearby, he didn’t hesitate to walk away from the prey he had been stalking. It seemed she was also interested in his presence, as they came into each other's view at the same time. They were both striding toward one another, anticipating whatever this encounter would bring them. Which made Sephiran even more excited. As they drew near, she would slow down but he would keep striding forward, tail raising to sway above his hips in a display of preeminence. He attempted to half circle around her, and place his larger body between her and the direction she had come from. As she introduced herself, he took this moment to study her. She was much smaller than him, was swathed in an array of grey shades, and didn’t seem to have any scars on her. Her eyes were blue, and held a single scent that wasn’t intertwined with other wolves, like someone in a pack. And what caught his attention the most, and caused a smirk to spread across his face, was the long, saber fangs that were similar to his own. ”Well, Rhian,”“ He repeated, tucking her name and appearance into his mind. “Do tell me… how did a woman acquired such long fangs?” He inquired impulsively, as he wanted to know how it was possible for some woman to have the same traits his family did. He was so intrigued by her fangs, he didn’t even think to introduce himself to her. His intrigue was fueled by curiosity... but, intertwined with that, was disdain. How dare this nobody have fangs like the Saxe. It made him want to break them off of her face. ”Speech”

The other wolf continued moving towards her, his tail high. Cocky bastard, wasn't he? Though Rhian was no stranger to exhibiting that kind of behavior herself, it still slightly irked her; she had to turn to keep her eyes on him. She mimicked his posture, holding herself with a loose arrogance, ears and tail up. Though hers had one difference: her tail was stiff, unmoving. Not inviting a fight, but not backing down either -- Rhian was a stubborn girl; she could stand up to anyone. She wasn't quite sure what he meant, her face scrunching slightly before she flattened it out to respond, clearly communicating in her scornful tone that she thought that his question was stupid, "Uh, the usual way, I guess? My father had fangs too." Has? Had? Did it matter? Anyway, she had thought that it was a relatively common alteration from the normal sort of wolf, which was only supported by this random stranger having them as well. He had not yet told her his name, she noticed. "Speak"

To the Saxe boy, it was unusual that she didn’t immediately shy away from his domineering exterior. He was used to women being subservient, given that most of the females back home served a single purpose in the pack. Unless they were a Saxe, of course. But not even that gave them the power to stand before a male in contempt. So, he found her body language to be surprising, and the scornful tone in which she replied. At the mention of her father having fangs, his head cocked slightly, lips twitching as they nearly contorted into a sneer. An image of Apollyon, his father, flashed inside of his mind. Could this girl be a sibling of his?

It was a grand assumption, given that fangs weren’t all too rare. But, that was a fact Sephiran hadn’t learned just yet. “Hmpf” He grumbled, and attempted to take another step toward her. It was meant to make her uncomfortable, as he wanted to further invade her personal space. To warrant a response. “So does my father.” He mused aloud, before asking a question out of impulsive curiosity. “Does he live here?” He wasn’t going to outright ask if Apollyon was her father. It was slim, given that she had no purple in her coat. But not impossible. “Or do you only know of him?" What was also possible, was that she only knew of her father, and had been born from a whore.

"Speech"

Another step closer. Was he trying to give her a hug or something? Rhian wasn't about to move away -- that would be like admitting defeat, both in her mind and probably his, considered how dumb he clearly was. Oh, his father had fangs? "Big whoop," she said drily. She shrugged in response to his question. "Fuck if I know," she said. "He did when I last saw him, but that was a while ago." Despite her external dismissal of everything Big Purple Bastard -- she would call him that until he confessed his real name, because she liked it and he deserved it -- she was beginning to enjoy the dynamic of it. They seemed more similar than maybe Rhian would want to admit: both of them were obviously very stubborn and proud. Though she was correct in believing that she was always right, and he was just being stupid. "Speak"

With each moment that passed, the woman became snarkier with him. She didn’t shy away, despite their close pxomimity. Nor did she cower in the wake of his dominant aura. She even dared to taunt him, dryly answering his questions, choosing to stay minimally involved in the conversation. And it irked him, which was likely her goal. “Daddy issues, hm?” He retorted, wanting to burrow his way beneath her skin, to strike a nerve in some way or another. Getting a rise out of her was just one of his intentions. But the grand scheme of this encounter was to satisfy his own perverse needs.

“If you aren’t a Saxe,” He started as he leaned in toward her, attempting to shove his shoulder into her if she didn’t move away. “Then you don’t deserve those fangs.” His tail rose above his hips, pelt bristling and lips curling to bare his fangs and flash her a toothy sneer. He was teetering on the edge, the impulse to attack and ravage her plaguing his mind. All he needed was one more snarky comment, and he would lose control. Which was what he wanted anyway.

"Speech"