To my one sweet life squeezed tight in a vice grip

Sitting on top of a large boulder, Sephiran is… content. His presence commands attention, though, there is no one around to grovel at his paws in awe. He’s surveying his domain, but his eyes are glazed over and unfocused, drifting around aimlessly, searching for something engaging. His muscles are related, yet poised, ready to grow taught in the face of excitement. But lately, his life had been lacking just that - his world plunged into the mundane cycle of alpha duties.

Absinth’s voice is a welcomed change in the atmosphere- she was summoning the Khalif for a lesson, hellbent on expanding their minds and morphing them into battle-ready heathens. Leaping down from his perch, Sephiran saunters through the Polar Sound, lazily gravitating towards her makeshift classroom. He emerges from the treeline unannounced, but the palpable shift in the atmosphere declares his arrival. He is not here to participate. He is here to observe.

"Sephiran Saxe"