He paces, muscles flexing under his coat as he does so, saliva flying too and fro as the man mashes his teeth together. Pacing. His body would not relent, the madness that tickled his nerves quickly seized hold of his mind and like a sage puppeteer, made him dance all sorts of dances. But now, the madness held back at bay the man stopped pacing, his head lifting as his eyes slide back as he gazes off into the distance before snorting sharply.

No words slipped from his lips as he draws them back, tongue sliding against his lips and then against his cheek as he growls with a hint of discontentment on the pitching of his growl. Slowly he stiffly places his haunches down upon the ground, his tail swinging around as the greying tip slaps against his hind legs. Thoughtlessly he turns his head toward his shoulder, only glancing at it before sweeping his tongue though his fur.

This time he rises again, haunches rising in a jerky manner as his muscles twitch under him a smirk flicking upon his features as he glances toward the river and then back to where it tappers off to expand, making room for the ocean. A dark chuckle escapes his maw, his eyes shutting as he silently waits.

That scent.

She knew that scent. Black nostrils flared as she picked it up, not believing her own mind. She hadn't seen him since her father gave her up to that lone wolf to break her. But that scent told her that she was right, it really was him. Would he want to see her? It had been quite some time, at least two years. He was just a pup then, but so was she.

Othello could not help but follow his trail, her elongated tail swinging behind her. She was nervous, a feeling the dame did not know too well. It had been quite awhile since she had even seen any member of her family, since she had no wish to see her father. He was the reason why she was worse now, and suffered nearly three years of hell. Taking a deep breath, she walked up a rise and peeked down the river. And there he was, mashing his ivories together like he was chewing on a bone. The white damsel froze, taking in the sight of her grown up half brother. He was so much bigger than she remembered, he already stood taller than she was and Othello had a year on him. His coat was the same, but it was more coarse and fit his frame. "Imonde?" She called, her pitch high in question. She still didn't believe her own mind.

Ah, insanity.

Something caught his attention, and how it tickled his nose as he tilted back his head, nostrils flaring as he dragged the air into his passages before turning storm striking eyes in the direction of the scent. Ah yes, if it wasn?t dearest Othello. A dark chuckle made its way fleetingly from between his jaws which where now of course parting. The male lowered his head, tail swinging up behind him as he aligned his head with his spine as he turns and steadily stalks toward her.

?Oth-el-lo.? Her name floated from his mouth like honey dripping down the base of a tree, he broke apart her name within his mouth, sounding out each fragment of her name as he draws closer so that he is nose to nose with her. ?It has be awhi-le.? He comments before drawing closer, his neck stretching so that his nose hovers just a bit away from the fur along her neck.

Slowly the male inhales, greedily sucking in her scent as he smirks before drawing back, his head nodding slowly in a disjointed and thoughtless manner. Tongue slowly slides along his teeth, weight shifting as he stares at her, only blinking in a lazy fashion.

Othello paused in her march towards her half brother, paw lingering in the air. There was something different, something off about him. Then again, she wasn't quite so normal either. Hell, was was normal? Shaking off that feeling, her white paw met the earth at last as she closed the gap between them.

Placing her nose against his own, she closed her eyes and let out a happy sigh. It was nice to see him again, to reconnect to one good thing about her past. It made her feel whole, if only somewhat. It was better than nothing though, she would rather have bits and pieces than to be left without anything. So she reveled in that moment, wrapping her neck around his in a wolfy embrace. She took in his new scent, derived of its sweet pup scent. He was all grown up now, that was for sure. Chuffing softly, she slowly pulled back and took in his form.

"How have you been? Where have you been in fact?" She asked. He had a somewhat lingering scent of others, and she wondered if he ended up joining another pack. She shuttered at the thought, a pack life was certainly not for her. But if it was for Imonde, good on him. They were very different, these half related wolves. While their scent and looks somewhat resembled each other, not many would point out that they were siblings.

"Speech"
'thoughts'

Interesting.

He pauses, his body growing tense as she puts her neck around him, the shreds of his sanity knocking at the doors, usually he didn?t allow others to touch him. What type of man would he be if everyone could touch him? The split second urge to snap his teeth upon her scruff passes, family. It was something that kept the kill switch from engaging as he readily accepts her embrace. His nose pushes against her neck again, a sinister but fond display as he breaths in her scent again.

?We have been off perf-ect-ing our art,? he teeters before sliding his nose down her neck and against her shoulder, his eyes flicking along her spine as a deep malicious chuckle escapes from between his lips. His head tilting as he pushes the side of his cheek against the neck of her fur until he is able to slide his nose against her spine.

His right leg lifts, his paw attempting to pat her shoulder in an awkward hug. ?We have be-en wond-ering about you, sister.?

There was something about her brother that sent a small shiver down her spine when he brushed it with his damp nose. There was a certain air about him that was off, much like that of Sinister's. She didn't believe in auras, but she readily admitted that emotions were exuded around them. Maybe it was that her bipolar mind made her more epithetic to how others feel.

We? To whom was he referring? Othello blinked with confusion, but tried not to show it. He once again took in her scent, and she repressed her shiver that time. And what art was he speaking about? She shook her head, clearing her mind. She focused instead on the joy that she had at last found her brother.

What was with him that that nose of his? He seemed to enjoy placing it all over her bodice. She felt like he was invading her personal bubble. Othello wished to pull back from his creepy touches, but embraced them for the moment. It felt like a life time ago that they saw each other, so maybe this was his way of making up for lost time.

When he tried to wrap her in a better hug, she couldn't help but let out a soft giggle, unheard of from this dame. When he said that he had been wondering about her, or rather 'they', she blinked steadily. Did their father not tell him where he sent her? Her ears flattened against her skull, her eyes growing somber. "Our so called father sent me off to be broken by a lone wolf." She said, her voice hissing between grated teeth. She would never forgive that wolf for what he did to her.

"Speech"
'thoughts'

Alight.

He paused, his tail swaying left and right behind him, in some sort of mockery of excitement. The male continued to rest his muzzle just above his sisters? spine, though his eyes trailed dangerously along it to rest at the tip of her tail before softly snorting, slowly pulling himself away from her. Restraint, what a difficult creature to master, but it was slowly slipping, for the man did not miss the shivers that ran along her body. What is that?

His mind couldn?t help but wonder why she quaked so, didn?t she know she was perfectly safe next to him? He was such a kind and caring?said no one ever. The male chuckles, this time deeper in his throat as he shakes his head, an ear slashing toward her as he listens to her words.

Head slowly cants to the side, tongue lashing out only to hover above his cheek as he watches her thoughtfully. ?We supp-ose you pl-ah-ed, with him?? He questions, his eyes growing murky and brooding as his tongue slowly trails back inside of his mouth. Imonde takes a step back, his ears picking up the agitation in Othello?s voice as a distant faint smirk slides along his features. ?If you didn?t pl-ah, with him, lead us to him, and we wi-ll.?

Play with him? Othello was confused, her ivory head tilting to the side as she studied her brother. What did he mean by play? "He beat me and didn't feed me. I starved for nearly three years as he beat my tired body. He thought if I was hit enough that my sickness would come pouring out." She answered, unsure of what he was really meaning to get across. He asked to play with him... was he lonely? But she was here now...

Othello sat down upon her rump, her long feathery tail curling around her paws. "What have you been up to when I havebeen away?" Maybe if she redirected the conversation to him, it would go on at a more normal rate. His hissing words still caught her off guard, but she was dealing with it and growing used to it. She was mostly just pleased that she had part of her family back.

Slowly the fallen god turns his head toward his semi-divine sister, beaten, starved, and yet here she was, still standing in front of him. "Sur-vi-vor, he proudly states, his tail curling over his back and then shaking in agreement as he hails her the survivor. "You are stron-ger than he, pr-ay, where is this male that would touch a demigod-dess? He doesn't deserve to live...we shall pl-ah with him."[/b} Imonde coos, his eyes shadowing as he lowers his body down to the ground and then stretches out as he sprawls himself upon the ground.



As she sits the male turns his head toward her, brows drawing together as he listens to her next question. He only rumbles quietly under his breath, head tilting toward the sky before coming back level to glance at her. [b]"We have been kil-ling, art takes prac-tice." Imonde answers in a deep pleasurable rumble, as if just the word and mention of slaughter was enough to bring him a slice of the heavens he was so wrongfully cast out of. We left fat-her just a bit after you did," he finishes, clipping the words as he nods toward her.