The Inquisitor

When the summon rang out at the border, Sephiran was already nearby. Fortifying the scent of his brood, leaving some fresher decor scattered along the border, making sure rotting entrails were strewn across the pines with the assistance of his falcon. His panther helped too, having used his knife to dismember the corpses into finer pieces. She even made sure to leave some of the macabre decor on higher ground, so it was easier to see from the borders. Pleased with their work, Sephiran started a routine patrol of his borders.

Snowfall steadily drifted from the heavens, immersing the forest in an all-consuming, fresh blanket of ivory. The sudden call at his border changed his course, pulling him from his thoughts and guiding him in his cousin’s direction. Azrael. A wolf he hasn’t seen in quite some time. Even his memories of his cousin were faint, given they’d spent much of their time interacting through routine training, rather than pleasantries. Still, he recognized the male’s voice, and was forming assumptions as he walked. Why was he here, he wondered? To take his throne? Join his ranks? Deliver a message from his father? So many possibilities- and they all made Sephiran’s mind run wild.

As he emerges from the treeline, there is a palpable shift in the atmosphere- an aura of arrogance and control radiating off his frame, as he approaches his cousin without hesitation. Each movement is deliberate, purposeful, and demands unwavering attention- his presence suffocating, as his eyes rove across them both and consume them whole. “Azrael“ He rumbles, eyeing the tiny woman behind his cousin more… closely. She’s appealing to the eye, no doubt. But what was she doing with Azrael?

Stopping at a conversational distance, he begins his questioning. "Have you come to serve me?” Straight to the point, Sephiran wastes no time deciphering Azrael’s reason for approaching his borders. And of course, his paranoia always has something to say. Perhaps he's come for your throne. If he’s come to challenge for Sephiran's crown, then so be it- Sephiran would meet greet him with a vicious assault, ready to kill, if it meant defending his deserved place as Sultan. And if he were here to align himself with Sephiran’s cause, to serve as his tooth and claw in whatever purists he deemed worthy…. He’d hear his cousin out.

"Speech"