Through the soft snow, paw of an unnaturally large size crunched their way across unfamiliar territory. The path left behind in the behemoth's wake would have been the stuff of legend around Boreas, and likely been dismissed for hogwash or hoaxes, unless they were to see the massive wolf that left behind such tracks. Through the wintry woods the giant prowled, coat as stark as the snow he crushed beneath impossibly large digits. The pristine white fur was marred only by occasional patches of ashy gray, and a dappling of jaguar-like spots covered his body like active camouflage against the snowy terrain. Dense clouds of humid breath hung in the cold winter air at the end of a muzzle that could have snapped over the largest wolf's head like a bear trap, and above that dangerous maw, two pools of molten gold peered out at the world around him, swerving through the trees on either side of him, keeping his guard up, ready... waiting...

He had known they were tracking him for some time now. He had known since he had killed one of their own trying to poach a deer from him. The cocky brute thought he could outsmart him, but in the end, Nero had left the wolf a mangled mess of what he had once been. Nobody tried to steal from him. But the stupid wolf had not been alone. The rest of his group—a posse, really—was pursuing him through the forest, keeping their distance enough that he could not pin down exactly where they were, but he knew they were there. Every so often, Nero would hear the snap of a branch, the rustle of dry foliage, the crunch of ice under the weight of a foot, and he would know they were still tracking him. Unfortunately for the wolves, he was the mightiest hunter in these lands, and he was going to teach them a harsh and unforgiving lesson as to why.

Following the sounds of a nearby waterfall, Nero veered his path and lumbered leisurely through the winter woods, heading for the falls. He kept his ears turned back, scanning for sounds. When he reached the clearing that opened up to the impressive waterfalls, the gargantuan wolf paused, sniffing the air and the ground. There was a pack set up here; their borders were clearly marked and well defined, recently established. Hmm, that posed a small complication... But Nero was not given any time to dwell on the matter. Turning back, he saw the three wolves emerge from the woods to finally face off against him. They glared, they snarled, they put on a good show of looking intimidating. But Nero just stared at all three brutes unfazed, sizing them up, taking them in with a predatory gaze.

"You're gonna pay for what you did to our brother," snarled the one clearly established as the leader of the trio.

Nero just stared the significantly smaller wolf in the eyes, his piercing golden gaze burning holes into the other wolf's head. "Guess I'll just have to kill you first." His response was cold and simple; no need to mince words with wolves who were about to be dead. Refusing to back down from his obvious threat, the wolves rushed Nero, two splitting off to try to flank him. Nero waited until they got closer, then swiftly kicked up a wave of slushy snow at the nearest wolf, pelting him with wet snow and ice. It was enough to distract him, giving Nero all the opening he needed. With a vicious snarl, Nero lunged for the wolf, grabbing the brute up by the neck in his powerful jaws. The wolf yelped, then gave a strangled whine for mercy as Nero lifted the wolf right off his paws, holding him aloft kicking and flailing. The wolf's friends tried to save him by biting at Nero's legs, their teeth sinking into his thick fur and skin, but Nero merely flinched and endured the pain. Then, with one powerful snap of his jaws, he crushed the brute's throat and shattered his neck, killing him immediately. But he was not satisfied yet. In a gratuitous display of violence and gore, Nero snapped his jaws down again, rendering the dead wolf's neck to pulp and filling his maw with the coppery taste of blood and sinew. A third snap and the wolf's head separated from his body, the decapitated remains crumpling to the snowy ground and staining the pristine canvas of white snow a deep red. One down, two to go.

Focusing his attention on the smaller wolves biting and clawing at his sides, Nero snarled and swung a massive paw out to catch the leader along the side of his head, sending him sprawling across the snow. The third brute did manage to get some good bites in on Nero's thigh, just barely missing his femoral artery by fractions of an inch. Nero snarled against the pain, feeling the blood run down his leg. Blazing gold eyes turned to the brute hanging off his thigh, and with a quick adjustment of his hip, he kicked his leg out to catch the wolf under his belly, kicking him away. The brute did manage to rip through Nero's thigh on the way out though, sharp teeth leaving deep lacerations across his leg that bled profusely. Nero grunted and pushed through the pain, reveling in the surge of adrenaline that came with it. It sharpened his senses, made him more aware—more deadly.

It was those sharper senses that caught the lead brute coming at him again. Nero turned just in time to intercept the wolf's lunge, both brutes snarling and biting at one another's face and neck. Nero caught the wolf across the face with his fangs enough to puncture through his cheek, while the brute got some deep scratches along the arctic dire's collarbone, staining his clean white fur with speckles of crimson. That was when Nero felt the second wolf leap onto his back, claws and fangs going into his flesh along his spine. Nero roared in pain and thrashed, trying to buck the wolf off his back, but to no avail. The bites on his back moved up, chomping down through flesh where his neck and shoulder met, trying to rip through his arteries and veins. Unable to continue a fight with his focus split, Nero demonstrated his special trait—he grabbed the lead wolf's face with his paw, dexterous digits getting a good grip around the wolf's snout and jaw and slamming his head down into the ground before tossing the stunned wolf's body aside. Now able to focus on the wolf on his back, Nero began to run towards the cliffs of the falls, turning to throw his back against the unforgiving rock face. The wolf was slammed between Nero and the rock, crushing him hard enough he yelped and flopped off of Nero's back. Freed from the assault, Nero rounded on the stunned brute and grabbed him by the head as well, then proceeded to slam the brute's skull back against the cliff over and over and over and over. Dull thuds soon became wet squishes as the brute's skull was pulverized and his brains were turned to mush against the rock and he was left twitching in his death throes. Nero watched the wolf twitch in his grasp for a moment, then bashed his head against the rock a few more times for good measure until his movements ceased and he was dead. One left.

Turning to face the last brute, the leader, Nero was a sight. Covered in blood, both his own and his foes', he calmly stalked over to the wolf who was trying to stumble away in his dazed stupor. The brute made it about three paces before he fell to the snow again, and then it was all over. Nero was upon him, grabbing the wolf's scruff in his jaws and lifted the screaming wolf up. The wolf was begging for mercy, sputtering out apologies faster than his tongue could form the words, but it didn't matter. His fate had been sealed when he decided to attack Nero. Without so much as a word to the doomed wolf, Nero parted his massive jaws and snapped them down over the much smaller wolf's head, biting down through the bone where the jaw connected to the skull. The wolf screamed in terror and panic—then was silenced forever as Nero bit straight through the wolf's skull, bisecting his head with a wet rip and pop of bones. Nero dropped the still twitching corpse to the ground and spat out the rest of the wolf's head beside the body, his foe's eyes still open wide and filled with terror in their post mortem glassy state.

And just like that, the fight was over. Nero had won and left the clearing around the falls a veritable bloodbath, most of the snow stained red and three mutilated corpses strewn about. But it had come at a great cost. Nero had sustained several serious wounds, including the deep lacerations in his thigh and the bites around his neck which had begun to drip blood down his chest and back. The paleo brute grunted and winced as the searing pain began to fill his brain, the adrenaline beginning to ebb away and leave him in the aftermath of combat. He was no healer, he had no means to treat all of his injuries. His fate would be in the hands of the old gods now. Limping over to the plunge pool at the base of the falls, Nero slumped down across the snowy shore and dipped his muzzle into the ice cold water, taking deep laps to quench his thirst and cool his body down. He was well within the pack's territory now, but he didn't care. He'd left a massacre on their lands anyway, and soon, they'd have a fourth, rather impressive body exsanguinated beside their waterfall too. How sad, Nero thought to himself, for a creature of the old blood to die in such a shameful way.

WC: 1688

Ooooh, now wasn't that just lovely? Scylla had been resting up atop the falls, surveying the land below, when she noted a scuffle break out. Not her wolf, not her problem. They were on her land, however. She could have gone down there. She could have helped out, buuuuuuut... With paws crossed as a pillow for her delicate skull, mismatched eyes watched the show. It was fascinating, to say the least. One of the males was a big, big boy. She'd seen another similarly sized wolf, but this one... he was impressive.

Battling for survival was always such an interesting thing. It was exciting to know that one side would inevitably meet their death. Who would win? As soon as the first wolf was dispatched, Scylla had her answer. The big boy would be the victor. From her perch atop the falls, she silently cheered him on, grinning or chuckling when he performed some fancy move or another. How wounded would he be when this was finished? She didn't have to wait long to find out.

Bodies lay all around the snowy coated giant and he soon collapsed. That was her cue. Sliding her satchel about her neck, Scylla picked her way down the falls until she reached the bottom. The fae's dark body peeled from the shadows as she drew into the brutes line of sight. Dulcet tones purred seductively despite his current state. "My my... what a pity for a beast as large and impressive as yourself to lay down and die." She clicked her tongue, shaking her delicate head. "Such a waste."

Moving around the giant, Scylla surveyed his wounds. The slice at the back of his thigh was nasty, as was the wound in his neck. He was losing quite a bit of blood but it was nothing that she couldn't fix. Wiggly fingers, after all.

Coming back around front, the diminutive fae seated herself before the hulking brute. She sat tall, absurdly long tail curling around her lower body. "I could save you. Fix you up. Make you good as new." Scylla's head gave a dainty little tilt. "Ah, but what's in it for me? I'd be saving your life, afterall. That's no small task." One paw extended and she stroked the side of his bloodied muzzle gently, sweetly. "A debt like that... The only proper payment is a life for a life, don't you agree?" Scylla smoothed the roughed up fur on the man's face in soft, soothing motions. Again she purred, "Tell me yes."

"Scylla"

Dying was a far more peaceful prospect than Nero had been expecting. All the deaths he had ever doled out had always been violent, vicious ends. A cursory glance back at the three bodies he'd laid to waste in his wake were a testament to that. Ironic, that he, a predator of the old blood, would find his end slowly bleeding to death on the banks of a river. Not in the heat and glory of battle, but slowly seeping away into the snow. It felt... wrong. It felt like an affront to all of his beliefs. But there was nothing to be done about it now. Even if he wanted to end his own life, Nero doubted he'd have the strength to climb all the way to the top of the falls to throw himself to the rocks below. No, he would simply have to accept his slow exsanguination or walk out into the water and drown. Neither option felt fitting for a brute like himself.

As he sulked over his situation and his ultimate end, the sound of soft crunching in the fresh snow caught the arctic brute's attention. Gray-tipped ears swiveled around to catch the sound and Nero moved with a lazy turn of his head, the motion tugging on the torn flesh of his neck to spy the stranger approaching him, surveying the bloodbath and carnage he'd left behind. She was a tiny, svelte thing, made of smooth plains and supple curves, wrapped in slate and cream stripes. Nero's expression remained dour, but the gleam in his eyes was a warning shot toward her. Don't. He wanted to be left alone to die, not be some bitch's trophy kill. Even wounded, he wouldn't hesitate to snap her in half like a twig. One more body on his tally before he went to Hell.

She spoke in purring tones to him, earning her a warning growl from the ancient dire brute. Stay away. He was a wounded animal backed into a corner. Was this fae friend or foe? She seemed to be admiring him—admiring his body—while she prowled around him. Inspecting him. Appraising him? Perhaps. Was she sizing up how well his pelt would look on her bed? Maybe where she'd hang his head in her den? Still, he was in no shape to immediately go for her. He had to save his strength, wait for her to come within striking distance, then he'd have his final kill. He wasn't going down without a fight. But to his surprise, the fae instead came to sit before him, posture relaxed and confident with her abnormally long tail wrapped around her. Now Nero could get a better look at her—and sample her scent easier too. Large nares flares, realizing that her scent matched the borders of this pack. This was the alphess of these lands.

The petite alpha offered to save his life; to mend him in exchange for his life service to her. Nero's golden eyes narrowed. She reached forward to stroke his muzzle and the urge to snap her leg off at the elbow was strong. But her touch was also soothing, tempting... She was playing with him. Playing God with his life. She told him to tell her yes while she smoothed down some of his mussed up fur. Her touch eased the savage animal within the monstrous brute. He held her mismatched gaze for a long moment, feeling the electricity between them as molten gold eyes held those gray and aqua jewels. It was like a battle of wills between the pair of wolves. She offered him salvation at the cost of his freedom. Was it truly better to die a free wolf than to live as her slave? Nero thought it over, considering his choice. He did not wish to be a thrall to another—but he did not wish to die even more. He still had things to do in his life. Foes to fell, faes to bed, a bloodline to propagate. Death was a hard stop.

With another rumbling growl, Nero breathed a soft sigh and his tense muscles began to relax. Even before he spoke the words, his body language spoke for him, as did the softening of those steely eyes. "Yes," he spoke in his deep, rumbling baritone after a moment. Then he laid his head down on his paws and stretched his hind legs out, giving the fae unrestricted access to any part of him she wished to mend. If she wound up killing him for his surrender, then he supposed he deserved it. His fate was in the hands of the Old Gods now.

The brutes spirit, his ego, the fiber of his being... it railed against being given such an ultimatum. Choose yes or die. Scylla didn't see it like that, however. She saw it as a chance to continue his story. And if she just so happened to be in the acknowledgments... all the better.

In time, the man spoke the word that she'd been wanting to hear. Scylla grinned and slid down to lay upon her belly before him. One paw lightly gripped either side of his face and the woman leaned in, her lips brushing his own before she claimed him in a deep, thorough kiss. The blood of his enemies melded with their saliva and, when Scylla pulled back, there were smudges of claret upon her maw. "Always better to seal such deals with a kiss, is it not?"

With the taste of the gigantic man still on her tongue, Scylla set to work. She attended the wound in his thigh first, clicking her tongue and shaking her head when she noted just how close he'd been to certain death. With delicate digits, Scylla expertly stitched the wound, smoothing a premade salve of honey, feverfew and willow bark upon it to initiate the healing process. Thankfully, the rest of the wounds were minor compared to the one in his thigh, though the one at shoulder and neck wasn't anything to laugh at.

Now that she was closer to the brutes head, Scylla could inspect his face while she worked. As she stitched up the shoulder wound, the woman watched his face for any sort of flinching. He'd done very well so far and she was both proud and intrigued. "I am Scylla, Sovereign of these lands and of the pack called Obscura." Dual-toned eyes searched his face before she asked,"What is your name, giant one?"

With his wounds tended, Scylla stepped away, cleaning her bloodied paws off in the snow. An icy breeze began to pick up, shuffling the foliage in the nearby trees. Giving a little wuff, a short, squat little creature ambled from the shadows and came to her side. Scylla spoke some instructions to the little bush dog and he was off, returning quickly with a massive bison hide between his jaws. Scylla dismissed him for the evening. Just in time. The wind had whipped up into a right gale.

Taking the huge fur in paw, Scylla draped it over her new acquisition. Rather than leave him though, she slid beneath the fur as well, nestling up against him, belly to belly. The woman wiggled her slender frame between the brute's forelegs, forcing him to embrace her. "Looks like we're in for a bit of a tempest," the fae purred. "Get comfortable, rest, heal. I'll keep you safe."

"Scylla"

Speaking that single word felt like a collar was being shackled around his throat. Nero detested the notion, but it still beat dying by miles. At least this way he'd be able to continue his story. Besides, nothing was stopping him from trying to gain his freedom once he was stronger again, and if this little bitch was all that stood between him and his freedom, well, Nero would have no problem snapping her in half if he had to. But first, he needed to survive. As soon as she got what she wanted, the diminutive fae grinned and slid down to her belly in front of him. The massive dire brute raised a curious brow. What was she doing? His answer came swiftly when those tiny paws came up to cup his cheeks, absurdly small on his face, and her lips came down to capture his. It was surprising and shocking, catching Nero off guard. Her kiss was deep and intense, claiming him with her tongue as it explored his massive maw. She tasted sweet, clean, delicious. Nero groaned low in his throat as his large tongue met hers and wrestled with it in his maw, showing he wasn't going to just lie there submissive to her. He was still alive and virile, ready to rage into oblivion if that was how it was to be.

Their mouths parted after a lusciously long moment, Nero breathing a heavy sigh of delight. Golden eyes saw the stains of merlot blood on her pale pink lips, leftover from his slaughter. It brought an amused rumble from the ancient brute to think he'd marked her as much as she had him. She began her work then, moving down to his hind end to patch up his thigh. Nero flinched as he felt the needle and sutures begin to bind his wound closed, lips peeling back in a quiet snarl, but otherwise giving no reaction and doing nothing to stop her. He had a high pain tolerance, and though the stitches and salves stung, he'd had much worse. Thankfully, all his other best assets down by his thighs were still intact. Those would've been a true tragedy to lose.

One by one, the little fae went about patching up his wounds. None of them were as rough as his thigh though, and once she had come up to his neck, Nero could finally glance up at her, molten gold pools locking with the mismatched sky blue and dark gray eyes of his guardian angel. She was watching him while she stitched up his neck. Was she looking for signs of discomfort, or was she trying to pull a reaction from him? He would grimace only a couple of times when she pulled the skin closed, but it was nowhere near the worst pain. The fae introduced herself as Scylla, the Sovereign of Obscura. So that's where he was then. Obscura... She asked for his name, and she would receive it. "Nero." His response was short and simple. It was all she had asked of him. His kind did not have family names. That was a construct of the wolves descended from his line, those that held onto things such as names in an attempt to gain some sort of power or validation. To his kind, only the strength of your blood and body mattered and determined if you were remembered or forgotten.

Once she was done, Scylla stepped aside to go clean her paws and Nero immediately went to stand, feeling his muscles ache from the strain and pull at his stitches. He grunted and groaned, ultimately settling back down on the ground for fear of ripping his new stitches already. Fuck. He was stuck here for now, and there was no way this tiny little creature would be able to move him. An arctic breeze kicked up, tossing snow flurries around in the air. It was getting colder, signs of a snowstorm coming in. Scylla uttered a call, and a short bit later, a bush dog returned to her with a massive bison hide. What the hell was she doing? The sky was getting darker, night approaching along with the storm making it almost pitch black. When Scylla came to him and draped the fur over them both, he realized what the crazy bitch was doing.

Scylla slid under the fur and wiggled her way underneath his powerful forelegs, settling herself against his broad chest like he were cuddling her close to him. The softness of her belly fur rubbed against his own belly, tickling his skin in delightful ways and pooling a warmth deep in his belly that he would have gladly entertained were he not injured and able to move. "You're insane. You'll freeze to death out here," he remarked with rumbling tones that vibrated the fae in his arms. He had least had the dense layers of arctic tempered fur to keep him safe. Scylla felt like she'd snap in two if he squeezed her too hard. There's no way she'd survive out here with him. Nero couldn't deny the lull of sleep though as his injured body begged for rest to heal and recuperate, but he stubbornly refused for now, half not believing that Scylla would be able to keep him or herself safe out here, and half convinced that if he went to sleep, he'd wake up with her frozen corpse in his arms.

Nero, the giant of a man gave his name to Scylla and she nodded in acceptance as she worked. With her level of skill, it didn't take long to get him all patched up. By the time the snowstorm rolled in, she was finished and they were both nestled beneath the bison hide. It was from a massive bull and was large enough to cover the pair of them completely. The brutes words met her ears and the diminutive fae chuckled, low and sultry. "Well then you'll be free of your oath quickly, won't you?" Nestled against the injured mans chest, Scylla was quite warm. As they slept, their body heat would bounce off of one another. She had no doubt that they would be fine. And if she wasn't? Well... at least she'd tried, eh?

All through the night the storm raged, the winds screaming and howling like a well full of banshees. Yes, it did get cold, but Scylla was a hardy little thing. It would take more than a winter gale to kill her. All through the night she stayed awake, listening to the sounds of Nero as he slept. A behemoth like himself, he was made for this weather. The loss of blood, however, would make him more susceptible to the cold. And so she stayed vigilant, listening to his breathing and feeling his hulking body for any signs of shivering.

Morning came as morning always did. The blowing snow had trapped them beneath the hide, but hey, they didn't die. Carefully, Scylla tunneled out of the little hidey hole. Thankfully the snow cover wasn't that deep. Gripping the edge of the fur, she pulled with all of her might, dragging the snow and the fur backwards enough to shine the bright light of day on the sleeping giant. "Rise and shine, big guy," Scylla spoke, spitting a few rogue bison hairs onto the snow beside her. "How are you feeling this morning, sleeping beauty?" Padding forward again, the Klein fae inspected her handiwork from the night before. It seemed as though the stitches held up well. Nero's blood coated some of her fur, but it wasn't a lot. The woman had no worries that he would be fine.

"Scylla"

Scylla simply responded to his concern of her inevitable death with a sultry chuckle and a remark of how he would be free of her swiftly. Well, yes... he supposed that was true. The wintry gale picked up around the pair as they hunkered beneath the bison hide, and by then it was too late for Scylla to attempt to seek shelter. She was along for the ride now. Through the night the storm raged, and during their silent snuggle session, Nero drifted in and out of fitful sleep. His body was weakened from the loss of blood, but he was still a hardy brute, built for snow and ice and weather far worse than this. This little flurry was nothing compared to the blizzards of his homeland.

It was strangely isolated though, and every so often the mammoth brute would wake to hear the howl of the wind around them, unable to even hear Scylla's breathing next to him. Only the softness of her fur and the warmth of her body entwined with his reminded him of her presence. More than once, Nero would peer down with molten aurelian eyes to where Scylla lay, realizing that in the heart of the storm, no one would ever know if he chose to dispose of her. It would be so quick and silent. One quick twist of her neck or a savage bite to her skull to cleave her head from her body. It would be over in seconds and he would be free again. But he was still weak from his fight, not enough to fear perishing any longer, but enough that he doubted he could so easily overcome the lithe femme. So he would play nice... for now. Bide his time.

Eventually morning came, and Nero opened his eyes to find the world beyond the bison hide caked over in fresh snow and ice. Despite some crystals clinging to his fur, the pair of wolves had survived the blizzard unscathed. Scylla greeted him chipper as ever, asking about his condition. Nero simply grunted, a guttural response as he tested moving. Moving hurt. "Stiff. Sore," he grumbled in reply. But he was alive. Scylla's stitches held and some of the wounds had even begun to coagulate. Something in the dire wolf's Paleolithic DNA that allowed him to recover more quickly perhaps?

Whatever it was, Nero began to shift, pushing the snow around him while he got his paws underneath him enough so he could stand. It was slow going, but eventually he was upright, truly towering over the tiny Sovereign for the first time up close. She was so small, he could snap her in half with one good squeeze... "It seems I belong to you now, Scylla. So what would you have of me?" Many had tried unsuccessfully to ensnare the ancient behemoth before, but only Scylla had ever been successful. What did she want him for?

The night in the cold had been a test for the gigantic man. Did his word mean anything to him? Could he be trusted to keep it? Only an idiot would put themselves at the mercy of such a beast without a backup plan or two. The fur lined satchel around Scylla's neck held her blue scaled viper; the snake ready to strike at a moments notice. Additionally, there was a handy little knife in each of the woman's foreleg bracers, both of which were dipped in heavy sedatives that could fell a bull moose in rut. The slate and cream woman wondered if he thought that she was insane. The whole situation was terribly amusing.

After some good stretches, Scylla seated herself on the ice crusted snow, watching with interest as Nero stood and tested both his strength and the skill of her stitches. Stiff and sore, he admitted. Brows lifted slightly and Scylla gave a little shrug. "As is to be expected, but hey! You're alive. You're welcome." He hadn't thanked her, but she made a point to say it anyway just to be a brat.

Nero stood, his golden gaze resting on her before he declared his servitude once more and asked what she wanted of him. The small woman grinned, teeth flashing in the bright light of a snowy morning. "Your strength, your skill," She'd seen him fight and believed that he'd be an asset, "your genes, if you're a good boy." Amusement sparkled in the slate fae's blue and grey eyes. It would be a bit of a task to take one so large into her small frame, but Scylla was no quitter.

"Do you think you can hold to your word? Does it mean anything to you?" Scylla asked outright, a challenge in her words as she held the gaze of the big man. Unless she wanted to ruin the potential partnership between them by poisoning him and dropping him in the pit, she had to know that he could be trusted that much. "There are many benefits to being a member of Obscura, you know."

"Scylla"

Nero made no effort to try to hide the way his eyes rested on Scylla's body as she went through a few languid stretches, caring little if the petite fae saw the way he was looking at her. He was a red-blooded brute, a creature of primitive design and primal coding. His favorite activities were base and bloody and carnal. Even in his injured state, there was no helping the genetic wiring that appreciated the svelte form of the sultry slate fae. Hell, maybe he was even attracted to the confident and dangerous aspect of her. Nero's tastes did run wild and his kinks savage. Scylla made a comment about him being alive and responding to thanks he hadn't given. The massive dire gave a grunt and studied the small wolf before him with guarded golden eyes. Yes, she had saved his life, but she had also stripped him of his freedom in turn. Was that worthy of gratitude?

"I am. Your work spared me from death." A pause before Nero added a reluctant, "...Thank you." He was a primitive savage, but he was not incapable of feeling and expressing appreciation. It would remain to be seen how thankful he truly was for this indentured servitude he found himself in. The way she smiled at him when he asked what she planned for him sent a little chill rippling down Nero's back, though his expression remained carefully measured. The way she looked at him was reminiscent of a predator eyeing up her prey. Whatever she had in mind, it had her grinning like a feral beast. Nero was intrigued and enticed. She wanted his strength and his skills. He assumed she meant his talents for doling out death, given that was all she knew he was good at so far. So he was to be an executioner for her? A set of teeth and claws to call down on her foes at her behest? Not a bad deal all things considered... Finding creative ways to snuff out life was one of Nero's guilty pleasures, after all.

But then Scylla mentioned his genes if he was a good boy and Nero raised a brow curiously at her. Golden eyes that had been locked on hers strayed downward, roving over the smooth planes of taut, sleek muscles and feminine curves. Would he even be able to fit inside her without splitting her in two? Well, if that was how Scylla wished to meet her end one day, far be it from him to deny her desires. Still, the prospect of Scylla desiring him to breed her was an arousing thought. Perhaps he could be a good boy for her in that was the carrot at the end of her stick. The Sovereign asked if he could hold to his word, questioning his trustworthiness boldly. The giant arctic brute had to admire her pragmatism; he had been considering all the ways he could kill her, after all. But now... he was beginning to grow curious about those benefits she promised him in Obscura.

With a lift of the corner of his lips in a cocky grin, Nero gestured with a wave of his paw over Scylla's still intact body. "You're still alive, aren't you? If I was going to kill you, I wouldn't have waited." The Paleolithic dire wolf was a baser creature—a lesser ancestor as many evolved wolves considered him. He considered himself their wild and more powerful first draft. "One's word is all they have to show their worth. I don't give it out, ever. Except now." He had given his word to Scylla in exchange for his life. Dipping his head to the Sovereign in a show of fealty and also to bring himself down to eye level with her, golden eyes locked once more with mismatched sapphire and obsidian. "This Ancient Blood belongs to you, Sovereign Scylla. Your 'benefits' are highly tempting." A flash of sharp teeth in a wily grin, eyes showing the flame of life revitalized within them.