A mob marches to their feet
05-10-2014, 10:36 AM
He had obviously calmed the grey man, as he too would relax his defenses and his tone would slow as lyrics would pour from his inky lips. The rusty brujo would then raise his head, to meet his lime gaze to the silver man's own, looking him in the eye. "I'd rather not fight you, Sinclair. It would not be too fair, and I do not mean to be any threat to you. Perhaps we could be allies, as you seem attracted to the dark side, like myself." The rusty brujo made sure to refer to the grey man by his name, rather than his normal cases of calling wolves. He did not want to anger this male, for the rusty brujo had no idea of what his style was, and he was two inches taller than himself, making for an uneven matchup. However, if it would be needed, the rusty brujo would use his war tactics to brawl against him, but only if he should break out into fury. Lime gaze would drift a little bit as he awaited a reply from Sinclair. "Speech" |
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