Sovari family!

A dreamlike state he was within, enveloped in the dark embrace of a nightmarish scene. A dark figure moved slink-like in the shadows, his figure lightly outlined and cast with a white glow. Dark eyes shimmered in the darkness, the darkest of jades, piercing the veil about him. Dark pads tapped the grasses and barren soil below his bodice. It felt as if the world would stoop low to the mastermind, yet it would not. Someday, perhaps, his dark and intelligent mind would reveal itself to be very much useful. Violence would not be key to conquering a wolf, but masterful manipulation and intellect. None of his siblings were really of interest of himself, rather too annoying or goody or overconfident within themselves. He, Stiletto Sovari, was a wolf of perfection.

His dark canvas would recline, then fold, allowing the shaded brujo a relaxing posture in lying down.

"Speech."