I Hold Your Deliverance

"Why should you believe..." mocked the ebon beast, threading an offended tone into the syllables.


"Look at me! Look at my eyes!" he barked harshly.


He glared back at the red gal again, a hint of placed anger making the crimson of his optics fiercer. Those were trained and definite tools of this demonling, looking wide open and into the souls of the eyes of opposing color on his opponent. Stretching below, brutal markings ruffled by months they've gone ungroomed could very convincingly be called the bloody mark of the viral death. This moment, Frayer looked as grave as he could, and not the insects fleeing to the swamp from the cold wintery north would be able to tell that this creature were not here with a sincere and critical mission. Could the dame?


"The grand malady is not called the blood-tear plague for no purpose. Can you not see the stained fur below my eyes? I have survived it! I have cured it already!" spoke black lips of a blacker fiend, as the head drew back and up.


An accusing visage struck the brows and nose of Frayer as he prepared to launch the lines that would strike the shuttle back into his adversary's court once more. Yet another tactic to be played by the charlatan comes upon her - the classic guilt trip. He would try to have this younger wolf truly believe that she is solely responsible for all the pain of her brothers and sisters should she not cooperate.


"Now, are you going to allow this blessing be conferred upon yours, or will you continue to act on the skepticism I see in your face? If you do not bring me to your pack - if you turn away the only wolf who can cure them - their deaths are on you!"


And with a calmer tone, to convince her of the choice of reason: "I just ask you to escort me to your alpha - and then what happens cannot be blamed on you. Simple."