Beggars can't be choosers

Saracyn easily agreed to play nice with Albion and Scylla would hold him to that. Ava was important to him and Albi was important to her. Both of them would defend and protect their siblings fiercely and both had made that terribly obvious. Scylla would kill for Albion and had actually considered it more than once. It would be so easy to slip something into the kill den and just decimate the Mendacium line completely. Grind them into the ground and scatter them to the winds. That would be too easy though and Scylla liked a challenge. A life without strife was a boring one and she was no old maid that craved warm breezes and days spent easy in the sun. Scylla firmly believed that hardships made hard wolves, and so she welcomed the challenges in life.

The striped fae had been expecting more back and forth banter, but Sara surprised her with true frustration, asking straight out what she wanted. When he thumped his head down before her on the rock and continued speaking, the humor drained from Scylla's pretty little face. Okay, so she had a soft spot for him. A rather large soft spot. In her mind, Saracyn was the only wolf that she might be able to call friend. She hated hearing him talk about himself as though he was less than the rest of his family. Something about it hurt her inside and that was a difficult thing to do.

Nimble digits reached out to either side of the brute's face, gently stroking his cheeks. Her switch had flipped and she had gone from catty playful mode to comfort mode. Thumbs stroked gently over the silken fur of his cheeks as she prompted his head to raise some from the rock. "I don't see you that way at all," she informed him in soft tones. "In my culture, you would be a king. You would be whatever you wanted to be." Scylla continued to slowly, languidly pet the man, keeping his gaze on her own mismatched eyes. "That's the funny thing about culture. We're all the same except for the words that are hammered into our minds." Would he catch her underlying lesson? He was choosing to see himself as less because he believed the words of his ancestors. If he could just break free of all that... He'd taken the first step by pledging his love and loyalty to his sister. He just needed to take a few more steps.

With a sigh, Scylla placed a gentle almost chaste kiss upon the brute's lips before she released his cheeks from her grasp. "You don't need to do anything, Strawberry. I, Scylla Klein, am your loyal wolf." His loyal wolf. If he chose to read it the way that she meant it, Scylla was pledging her loyalty to him rather than his sister. She waved one dexterous paw. "Run back and tell your sweet sister that she has nothing to fear." Now that her mood was much more solemn than it had been prior, the slate and cream fae sighed and curled her body upon the rock, giving Saracyn her back and her dismissal.

"Scylla Klein"