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

His eyes traveled across the taller frame of his half-brother, inspecting him with an analytical eye, forming assumptions, and contemplating if he would be a worthy addition to his group. Mel’s display of neutrality helped soothe the suspicions raging in his mind, and the paranoia that drove much of his decisions and actions. The plague that consumed his thoughts and ravaged his mind. A tip of his skull, an aversion of the eyes, the subtle tucking of his chin- following with an accolade- an acknowledgment of the work Sephiran has completed in his brother’s absence.

Mel was choosing his actions carefully, that much was apparent- which won him the grace of The Syndicate Sultan.

With a flick of his muzzle, Sephiran dismisses Aresenn. Then, he turns back to his brother, locking their gazes. He continues to wield his authority like a weapon, each gesture commanding obedience and attention. “Why did you leave Saffron?” Straight to the point, Sephiran muses his thoughts aloud. “And why are you at my borders.” A final question, which tied into the first. He wanted to know why Mel was here instead of back home, serving their father and his brood of heathens.

"Speech"