What's The Point?

Perhaps it had been the smell of rusted iron and decaying flesh, or the phantomous screams of those who had fallen here. Or maybe, Sephiran had been drawn towards the desolate land scattered with blood splatters and the ruins of another world out of curiosity. Whatever had compelled him here, he didn’t truly know. The territory had little to offer him, given that he was alone. Or so he had thought. His plan had been to pass through, as this place served as a stepping stone in the grand scheme of his journey. But he found himself unable to leave once he heard the battle cry of another wolf somewhere in the distance.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Sephiran immediately changed his course of direction, heading toward the direction of the summon. His mind raced as he leaped over small pools of water, weaving between the oddities in the landscape until the silhouette of another male appeared along the horizon. He approached without hesitation, slowing his stride once he was several yards away. He took a few seconds to study the man, gathering important information like size differences and muscular tone. They were nearly matched in height, but Sephiran had one advantage this man was clearly lacking; his long, saber fangs.

Whether the man noticed him or not didn’t matter to Sephiran. His defenses had already fallen into place, as his ears folded against his skill and his tail rose to align with his hips. His core tightened, knees slightly bending to center his gravity. The only forewarning of his advance would be the snarl that erupted from his jaws, as Sephiran attempted to surge forward, wanting to close the distance between them. If this dude wanted a fight, he would give him one. Using his forward momentum, he would attempt to sidestep just before impact while jutting his left shoulder out, wanting to slam it into the man’s chest. In sync, jaws would splay and he would try to grab the side of his face, wanting to rake his fangs across the sensitive skin there.

"Speech"