Beggars can't be choosers

Saracyn was a proud wolf. Proud wolves did not like having to go grovel to others for what they needed. He was a prince of Mendacium nobility, the Commander of Elysium for crying out loud! And yet here he was, having to go crawling like a whining dog to Scylla to convince her and her brethren to stay within Elysium. Tactically and logically he knew it had to be done; Scylla was a talented fighter and poisons expert, and her siblings helped to bolster the defenses of the pack. Losing the Kleins over the failed betrothal would deal a devastating blow to the pack, so damage control had to be done preemptively and swiftly and at any cost. Unfortunately, that would turn out to be a bitter pill to swallow. But swallow it and his pride he would for the sake of his sister. Plus deep down, he knew he had been the catalyst that caused this conflict. He needed to set things right to make Avacyn's life easier.

Following Scylla's scent out of Alias to the Boreal mainland, Saracyn carried with him a freshly caught salmon. A peace offering. He didn't know if the little Klein fae would be hungry or not, but he didn't feel right not having some sort of gift to open dialogue with her. Not to mention he was only really good at fighting, hunting, fishing, and fucking, so she got fish this time around. Grumpy about what he was about to do, Sara followed the fae's trail to the lake before he decided he wasn't going to be chasing her all over Elysium just to throw herself at her paws and plead for her family to stay. So the crimson brute parked his rump down on the pebbly shore surrounding the lake, set the fish gift down, then uttered a call for Scylla. Hopefully she wouldn't hate his guts so much she'd ignore him—or worse, continue to lead him on this wild goose chase...

"Saracyn Mendacium"