Inside Out.

The proclaimed grandfather that stepped out of the shadows to greet Sericea was not what he expected. He seemed more like a presence than a shape- a ghastly white figure that was unsettlingly vague- like a mirage on the edge of reality. His presence caused a shift in the atmosphere, an uneasy stillness filling the air. It was palpable to the young Saxe- it made the hair along his nape stand on end.

Shit, he was caught. After greeting Sericea and Iskandor, the male called out, beckoning him out of the shadows. Zagan hesitated for a split second- not out of fear or apprehension- but he was weighing his options. Did he attack straight out the gate? Did he pretend to be cordial, to gather information? Did he call for Absinth, Aresenn, or hell, even Sephiran? Too many options, with only a few seconds to decide.

And that lecherous, predatory look in the male’s eyes was familiar to Zagan- the way he peered down at Seri- as if she was a puppet. A toy. And the way she crumbled beneath his intense gaze- how she stammered over her words, her eyes wide with shock and fear- it raised many questions in Zagan’s mind. Even Iskandor could feel it- he was gravitating closer to Seri- almost protectively. As if he had any right to protect her. It was enough to draw Zagan out of the shadows. He had to deal with this himself.

As he moved froward, his eyes never left Seri. He shot her a cold, sharp, and silent command- if I tell you to run, you run. The tension in the air pulled tighter as he closed in, stopping beside Seri to peer down at the slightly smaller, but older, grandfather. His body brushed lightly against Seri- a subtle notion that was a quiet declaration of defiance. “Grandfather?” He questions, his tail flicking behind his titanous frame. “Why haven’t I met you before.” A large ear flicked in Seri’s direction- it was a question for the both of them.

"Zagan Saxe"