verbatim.

There was a mischievous glint in Absinth’s eyes, a subtle mix of amusement and anticipation crackling beneath her monochrome pelt. She was prideful in her presentation of the fiery man, ready to offer him to her Sultan- and Sephiran was eager to accept.

Only, he wasn’t being offered as a Sidi- but instead, an asset to his empire. Cocking his head slightly, he shifts his gaze to Flare, immediately reassessing him, deciphering how this male could be an asset. He was woven from the same cloth as Absinth, or so she claimed. But that didn’t mean anything to the Sultan- he was a man of action, not of words. If she believed this male had a place in his empire, she’d need to prove it.

Flare introduced himself, and Sephiran tipped his head back slightly, exuding an air of dominance, of oppression. Without warning, he suddenly grabs the handle of his blade between his teeth, unsheathing it and yielding it toward the pair. The obsidian glimmers in the morning light, enhancing the tangible shift in the atmosphere, as a wave of impending danger consumed the space between them.

Moving forward, Sephiran approached Absinth, his eyes gleaming with feral intensity, as if he were going to issue an assault. But suddenly, his head twists and he’s throwing the blade at her paws, lips pulling back to reveal a flash of stained teeth. “Show me what he can do.” His intentions were clear- he wanted to see them fight, needed to see this ‘arrow in the heart of his enemies’ defend himself against a merciless woman with a blade. Stepping back, he shifts his gaze to the male, a look of interest flickering in his gaze. Will you manage to impress me?

"Sephiran Saxe"