eyes are a window / to a storm that's getting close

Venturing back into the valley of The Polar Sound, Sephiran had just returned from his island after completing a patrol. The air in the sound was still, the occasional whisper of a breeze rustling through the towering pines. Snow blanketed the forest floor, leaving crisp imprints of his massive paws in his wake. His panther companion was following behind him, his viper coiled loosely around his neck, slithering through his thick fur as it savored its master’s warmth. Its little tongue caressed his skin, as it reveled in his sharp cologne. With each breath, tendrils of mist formed in front of him, swirling and dancing in the frigid air. His panthers did the same, the dark beast watching their surroundings for threats as the Sultan led it across the valley.

He didn’t have a destination in mind; he was wandering aimlessly. Looking for something of interest, anything that could satiate him. He considered visiting the Sidi dens, to cause havoc among their slaves just for the hell of it. He’d even turned his body in the direction of the dens, but suddenly his falcon companion swopped down from the sky. Wolf like you! Wolf like you! Stopping, Sephiran raises his head up, peering at the flapping bird with a look of interest. At the borders! As if on cue, a howl rang out across his domain, resonating from the borders and summoning the heathens living within.

Oh. Wolf that looks like me. He recognized the voice immediately; he hadn’t heard it in seasons, but it was one he wouldn’t forget. His half-brother Melchior. The two males had very similar pelts, though Mel was slightly taller than Sephiran. Bulkier too. Now he understood why his falcon was so interested in the wolf at the border. He may as well be Sephiran’s twin.

The Sultan takes his time arriving at the border, Aresenn’s crimson form appearing first, given it stood out so drastically against the backdrop of his snowy forest. Behind him, was the limbering male who shared his father, Apollyon. He arrived just as Aresenn finished describing his pack to Mel, and Sephiran strolled forward without hesitation.

Typical of him, Sephiran exudes an air of authority and arrogance, a palpable shift occurring in the atmosphere as he seems to consume the space around them. His sharp, dark features are pulled back into a sneer, his piercing eyes honing in on Mel, forming assessments and assumptions. Had he come to join the rest of his family? Stopping at a conversational distance, and a step forward from Aresenn to signify his place as Sultan. Sephiran rolls his shoulders forward, head tipping up and slightly back, his lips curling into a predatory smirk. He waits to see what his brother’s initial response would be; if he would bend beneath Sephiran’s will, or if he would defy the Sultan and declare himself an enemy.

Sephiran was always siding with his paranoia.

"Speech"