not god's chosen

It was rather clear that Rhys was now walking the line. With the rumbling coming from the greyscale stranger as well as tense body language the pale beast knew he'd done enough. Despite Rhys' desire for chaos and mental turmoil he was not here to necessarily bully the poor boy. As a warning spewed from the other Wolf Rhysand couldn't help but to smile, "Well we wouldn't want that now would we?" Honestly this tall yet lanky ghoul rather enjoyed the thrill of a fight. Especially those of which that are not merely a spar. The adrenaline pumping through your veins and the metallic taste of blood on your tongue... Rhys had no fear of scars so the threat of a brawl did little to strike even an ounce of fear in the confident creature.

Rhys was more then surprised when the stranger sat down. It seemed the banter was enough to interest him enough to stay in chat. That greedy little smile remained on pale lips as Rhys lowered himself into a seated position as well. Green eyes settled on the other Wolf as he uttered a response, "I am new to this region so I was merely doing a bit of exploration." Lush, silver, tones rolled off his tongue with ease. "I've never encountered trees like these before. A hollow one would make for the perfect den..." His curious gaze moved across the landscape before flicking back to the stranger. "I am Rhysand Malveaux, by the way. May I have your name?" Lids lowered gently as his face morphed into a painting of mischief, viewing the formerly agitated male beneath pale lashes.