Food for the wolves

The acrid smell of alcohol and bitter herbs brewing from within the den wafted out through the open den door. Even up north, the summer had been unseasonably hot, so Azrael had removed the bulky furs that kept the drafts out during winter so the cool coastal breeze could ripple through the cave in a cross breeze. Azrael was watching the color of the decoction he was distilling, waiting for the pale green color to boil away into a neutral clear color to signify it was done. Then came a knock at his door, catching Az's intrigue. A visitor to his quaint little workshop of horrors? How delightful!

Removing the beaker of clear medicinal concoction from the flame so it could cool, Azrael rose from his worktable and headed out to the mouth of the cave. He knew it wasn't one of his relatives, as the Saxe clan usually just barged in whenever they felt like it, so he was curious as to who was paying his apothecary a visit today. Stepping out into the warm summer day, he was greeted by two wolves—a massive behemoth that looked like he'd been spawned from fire itself and a thin delicate-looking fae about half his size practically shaking where she sat and was notably free of their scent. A loner. Interesting...

Azrael looked between the two of them before fixing his gaze on the brute that smelled of the Syndicate with a pleasant and easy smile. "You're one I haven't met yet." Azrael only really knew his family in the pack. He hadn't bothered getting to know any of the other rabble Sephiran had managed to scrounge together. "Azrael Saxe. You rang?"

"Azrael Saxe"