A God Amongst Mortals

Another.

One eye slowly flits over to the second female that decided it would be a good idea to join in the little meeting. The male watches Misha, a slow smile creeping along his face as his tongue once again slides over his teeth, and dances along his lips. The male tilts his head up, sniffing leisurely at the air as his vocal cords rumble his interest at the situation. Ah, another victim. His minds taps on the walls of his sanity as he paces himself, his body slowly beginning to shake as if he was about to flick water from his fur.

?Ye-s.? The male answers, his mind spinning as the rabid urges press him, no urge him onward. The threads of self restraint slowly slipping away as he stands there. But then Roman moves between him and Misha. Pity, his thoughts ring out, tongue within his mouth once again as the trembles that racketed his body soon fade away.

Pack wolves, how interesting, I wonder if they taste the same as rouges? His mind idles and then wanders, before he nods back toward Roman. The tense, he could taste it though, the word blood seemed to set everyone but him on edge. Not worthy. He agrees with himself in his mind. ?So-me smash plants, oth-ers offer bl-ood.? He explains, the man trying to describe the position of a warrior but not exactly having the right words for it.

?Our te-eth?? Imonde clips eagerly, ?sha-ll offer the bl-ood of en-em-ies.?