Loathe the way They Light Candles in Rome

My, was he intrigued. Aresenn had brought him a gift that was neither friend nor prey. Her role was still to be determined, based on how Sephiran responded to her, which ignited a flame of arrogance inside the boy. He liked having control. The stoic expression on his face morphed into a smile, but it was short-lived. Her snarky comment played into the hands of his ever-changing mood, lips peeling back into a sneer as his pelt bristled at his shoulders. “Oh, but you are here,” He went to take a step towards her, domineering in his movements, wanting to elicit a response. “And how very unlucky for you.” Truly, if Aresenn hadn't followed up by stating she was a Saxe, he would have tried to pillage her right then and there. But, in his knight-in-shinning armor fashion, Aresenn unknowingly came to her aid.  

She moved to inspect him, and Sephiran did the same- trailing the curvature of her body, looking for traits specific to the Saxe lineage. Aside from the purple hue, there was nothing. But given how vast his family had grown, it was still possible for her to be a relative. The inquiry he expected finally came, but Sephiran had no interest in quickly giving out names. Just as he had done with Ravage, it was the way of the Saxe to test each other’s strength, to determine just how closely they were related to the inner branch.

And so, when Elysia came to stand before him, Sephiran did not falter in his decision. Lunging forward he sought to ensnare her throat between his jaws, aiming for the inner-most portion, where her windpipe was protected by fur and flesh. In sync, he aimed to use his larger size and weight against her, throwing himself forward to try and topple her over.

This was a test of her strength.

"Speech"