The Beginnings of a Choir
Her approach would not go unnoticed. But it was not her brother that noticed her, but rather his mate. The monochromed woman would spin to face her, recognition flashing in her mismatched gaze. Anger would flare, her posture aggressive as a single word left her lips. Falk? There was no denying the questions that lingered behind her brothers name. Immediately, russet lips would curl back to reveal ivory daggers, hackles bristling as her crown lifted and ears pinned. A throaty growl was cut short by her brothers concern as he rushed forward, placing himself between them. Hackles would relax, lips falling smooth, though her crown remained lifted and eyes glittered with defiance. "Isardis was being challenged to the death, so I went to watch, and while there, some white bitch attacked me." Tones were nonchalant, she had long accepted this. Now ignoring what could only be assumed to be her brothers mate, her attention was settle on him, his worry and concern evident. Her eyes narrowed fractionally, his words still ringing.
He would break eye contact to look between herself and his mate. Introductions would be made, which would finally force her to look at Surreal. Lips would curl into a smile, though it didn't touch her eyes. Fangs peeked out from beneath her lifted lips. "What a pleasure." Words of silk would spill from her jaws in an overly sweet manner. There was so much she could say, but instead she fell silent, her attention reverting back to her brother. "Speaking of family, brother" Words were carefully annunciated as she shot litter daggers at him. "You are going to be an uncle." There was no joy in her words as there should have been. Her blood boiled, heart thundered as anger churned in her belly. Her singular orb would harden in emerald ice as tension radiated from her being. |